University of Virginia Library

SECTION I.

The Mariner's Tale.

That the reader may draw breath as well as myself,
at every convenient stoppage of the narrative, I have

proposed, nay, determined on an experiment; to which I
now proceed; and deeming it the duty of a writer, that what
he does in his discourses with the world, he must do boldly,
as the soldier who volunteers the forlorn hope; for he cannot,
if he be no servile flatterer, expect to meet all favour—he
must offend the taste of some, to please others
—nay, to gratify his own;—at a period of the romance
like that to which it is now brought, I have concluded
without offence, I hope, et sans ceremonie, to any person
concerned, to take leave of the rule, which in the latter
sections of the second book in this work, I had bound
myself to observe—and, leaving the characters I have
heretofore summoned to fill my scenes, to take care of
themselves, for awhile I shall enter on a new ground,
which, however, may in the denouement, be found to
forward the progress of the main business; but in the
pursuit of this object, I feel I shall often need to
be called to order—for a habit, which has, I have no
doubt, been a great drawback on my readers already,
still sticks to me; and is so miserably interwoven in my
nature, that I fear it will bear me out in the very last
page; it is, that reflect I must—and what is worse, I
must trouble my readers with my thoughts and dissertations;
and as I am now approaching a portion of the
work, to which all the former parts may appear merely
subservient, I cannot refrain (from the nature of the events
which I shall be forced to detail) from frequently remarking
on men and manners as they exist, when compared
to them as they have once existed. There were
indeed bad men, bad deeds, and a bad world, in the
olden day, but then were the ages of barbarism and
idolatry; but for all the storied chronicles relate—for
all the pen of the historian hath traced—for all the scorn
that is heaped on our unlettered and unpolished forbears,
I am brought to believe, and that on no weak foundation,
that the most foul crime they knew, hath its superior,
and where they had the ability to commit one vile action,
among us a thousand are hourly perpetrated, far
beyond what the most abandoned could have once
dreamed of; and though this be termed the age of wisdom,
of morality and religion; yet the most glaring vices,
and most atrocious criminals, stalk abroad in open day,
with upright front; and it is virtue alone, that like some
trembling and timid bird shunning the fowler's eye, seeketh
darkness, and fearfully cowers in the shade; indeed
honesty is the marah, the bitter waters of the Scripture;
few love to taste it. Although perhaps the wickedness of
these times may have been exceeded in the capability of
its enactors; at least, at no period hath it ever been more
impudent and barefaced, seeming as if that, which with
our forefathers was but in the bud, hath now blown out
to its fulness: in truth, decency of behaviour is scarcely
observed in any station of life or state of society; at
present, the higher are only distinguished from the lower
classes, by their ingenuity in roguery, and their refinement
in debauchery: for while the ragged losel robs for a
few coppers to supply his drunkenness, the proud gentleman
as he terms himself, filches from his friend, his
brother, his patron, thousands which he riots away on
bawds, dice and wassail; and yet there never was more
religion than now; but then, never was there less morality.
What a convenient garb for villany, for hypocrisy,
hath ever been the scapulary—the black badge of
priesthood; what numbers of our divines are avaricious,
canting deceivers—who, dead to true piety, own no
spring except the strong urgings of private interest; who
have no charity for man, no heart but for themselves—
no God but gold—and who preach, but practise not: in
numerous instances, religion hath been made an article
of traffic, and bought and sold as though it was a mere
carnal thing—a piece of merchandise formed for the
uses of man; and so it has been—for the simple religion
of nature, when the worshipper without the pomp
of carved altars and pillared chapels—without the rich
bound, gilded prayer book, and the soft and crimson
cushion, poured forth in simple guise, his heart unto his
maker, hath passed—and devotion hath become the enaction
of foppery, of sleek locked bigots—of starched and
sanctified apes, who assume a meekness of heart, which
is but outward show, the covering of depravity; who talk
of lowliness, while they flutter like butterflies, proud of
their silken cloaks and snow white bands: yes, the
preacher even at the desk, seeketh not the meekness
that should become his station—but with the heart of
the tiger, thirsting for blood, points out the way to persecution:
at times, yea, in the self same breath, he
talks of charity, and of death and torments to those who
differ in their creed from that to which he is bound, by
bonds of iron, of ignorance, of bigotry, of livelihood;
for often his bread depends upon spreading doctrines
which he scorns and laughs at, over his secret convivial
cups—and which he brings his false lips to utter, to gratify
the infant minds of doting old women, and simple
girls; for such are the true supporters of the clergy.
Out on the garments of disguise! I have known one of
them, who, from the cold, stony, and frosted threshold of
his doorway, hath thrust forth even to the storm, the
scarce garbed and shivering beggar, bidding him, unpitied,
seek relief in the bleak winds of winter; yet he,
a pampered pauper, revelled in luxury: I have heard
his voice denounce as vile, amusements, which he himself
slily enjoyed;—away with such deception! Sad
indeed is it, that the gown should be changed to the
leper's mantle, a cloak to cover and hide vile spots,
loathsome deformities, and deadly passions—the fierce,
revengeful hatred, and the baser frailties of weak hu
manity, and serve alike for the garb of hypocrisy and
the blackest designs. Here, however, let it be borne in
mind, that no one more venerates and respects, than the
inditer of these sentiments, true and unfeigned piety,
gentleness and devotion: but where are they to be
found? for it is too palpable to every observer,
that there are more unblushing pretenders among
the votaries of religion, than any other following; and I
must confess, I cannot endure to behold with patience or
temper, so many puritanical mountebanks impose on the
unwary multitude: wretches whom Cibber describes as
making a trade of religion, and showing an uncommon
concern for the next world, only to raise their fortunes
with greater security in this.[2] Yes, from the very bottom
of my heart, I do detest this over pious species, who, losel-like,
fatten on the richest benefices, swelled by the
alms of the blinded, the besotted and the childish; who
riot in the plentiful contributions of the ignorant, who
are gulled out of their time and money on false pretences,
the conversion of the Hottentot or the Samoide, and who
after performing a thousand nefarious deeds unpunished,
hold up their hands, and groan in the very spiritual nasal
twang of the conventicle at the every action of another.
Again, of what consists the crowd of our civilians, but of
abandoned sharpers and needy knaves, who prowl abroad
like the insatiable hyena, seeking whom they may devour,
defiling the purity of justice with their unhallowed doings;
they are like that treacherous animal, who, discontented
with its due share of food, seeks for an unguarded
moment of its master's meal with eager lip and flashing
eye, to pounce upon the dish and glut its ravenous appetite
with all that it can prey on, watching even for the
life's blood of him who had been its fondest protector;[3]
the most vile and really weak chicanery are allowed to overcome
right, and men are oftener robbed of life or fortune
by the incorrectness of a word than by truth and justice;
and it is this that makes the law the villain's refuge and
the honest man's bane; for judges pride themselves more
on giving ear to the letter of the law, the meaning of a
word, a technical form, or rather, as it is called, legal knowledge,
which closes the hearing though it may sharpen the
sight, than the voice of evidence, and the facts in dispute;
and it is seldom but the most perfidious and villanous of
mankind, on the most frivolous subtities and the flimsiest
subterfuges, escape even though clearly detected, their
deserved punishment. Such is the law; a base and wilful
false swearing, though it may be the ground of misery, of
ruin, and of misfortune, is not a punishable perjury if it
be not material to some frivolous point on trial. Out on
these childish forms, the legal trickeries that do, by
shielding the wicked and the profligate, destroy honor,
honesty and truth! And farther, if a man be a politician,
a follower of the ruling party of the day, in this part of
the world, he is amenable to no offence; it is true, if his
conduct be too flagrant to be glossed over, or to smother
from public indignation, the mockery of an investigation
is gone through; but it is a flimsy fiction to cheat the
multitude, and, by bringing forth the offender pure and
unspotted, give him new opportunities to pursue his atrocities
with impunity. I have beheld one man ascend the
judgment seat (but him we all know[4] ) to set on trial of a
felon, so afterwards convicted, accused of wilful perjury,
whose hand, as though a dear friend, he had clasped a
moment before the opening of the court, though, let it be
remembered, an indictment had long been found, and, as
may be supposed from this, care was taken that sentence
never should be passed upon the culprit; for why? he was
influential at the poles, at an election. Aye, this very
judge, I have been told, and have cause to believe it,
with the same breath hath encouraged the rogue, and the
honest man hath he denounced; the popular cry with him
is the law, he would kiss the feet of a leper, drink the gutters
dry, steal, murder, for men in power; indeed he is a
fair allegory of the fabled figure that crowns the building
wherein he has a seat being blind of one eye; but
his blind side hath a certain cure the instant he feels it
the strongest. But this man has some virtues that are
not to be denied; he can with such good nature, apparent
rectitude, and unblushing confidence decide a cause,
or rather a point of law, at one hour in one manner,
and a different time in another; and has so many authorities,
unknown to any other jurist, at command, that it confirms
the idea, there is more talent required to be an honest
man than a knave; in a word, through the artifices
of rogues like this man, who seek for protection or service
from their power, the law hath become so overburthened
with rotten statutes, that it hath grown rather an
oppression than a safeguard to those who honestly have
recourse to it, and who really may be termed with some
propriety, in the words of a writer whose name has escaped
me, “patients, rather than clients.” Indeed the law
is like some huge umbrageous tree, rooted in discord,
loaded and almost weighed down by innumerable dead
and dying branches and withering foliage, and which cannot
again flourish until fairly trimmed by the skilful knife
of the woodman; but which, left longer unimproved, will
become unfit for aught but the forest axe to level, and to
he hewed from the roots for the fire; or perhaps the law
may be better likened to some old, scarce inhabited tower,
the home of the bat, the night owl and the rook; a tall
pile whose roof is matted o'er with withering flowers, and
whose blackened visage proclaims the lapse of years, the
wrecks of man, the changes dire which time effects and
his dark servant death—the extent of whose ruined apartments
is scarce known to its possessors, who still, with
mad fondness, dwell on amid the dust and the lumber of
ages; amid the gloom of its wide halls, which scarce feel
like the dwelling of man, but rather his sepulchre; disdaining
the social and convenient comforts of a neat modern
mansion for an ancient rookery, which hath nothing
to recommend it except veneration for the moss and ivy,
which like some creeping thing of life, hath glided up the
crumbling wall, and, with its green and smiling visage
carpeting the cold brown stone, o'er which a hundred
winters had spent their fury, seeming like some tender
and youthful child embracing its aged ancestor, and bespeaking
its antiquity. And to pursue the inquiry of this
subject, the state of the times, let me ask what now is the
man of medicine, but a conceited empirick, a mere fop
of pill and glister, a self-be-puffed pedant, swelling and
bristling with ignorance and his own lofty pretensions to
importance? though as to knowledge, more exact in the
set and knot of a neckcloth than in the beat of a fevered
pulse, or the means to allay a throbbing temple—there is
one of this species, the very buffalo of his breed, a huge,
strapping creature, as empty as a hogshead of all except
arrogance and presumption, by whose unmerited success,
the minor followers of the lancet trim their course and
fashion their manners; troth, he is a very mother All-flesh,
in bulk and intellect; heavy, vastly heavy, alike in wit
and countenance; he hath the amplitude and features of
a bull, fattened by high feeding, and looketh the square
compound of every sense, except that which is the most
wanted; he is the very humbug and jest of notoriety,
pleased with the rattle of a child and the dividing of a
straw, his whole study is to thrust himself into celebrity,
in the very face of public opinion; and to build his own fame
he taketh every mean method; the suppression of the
honours, and the name of another is of little consequence if
it interferes with his plans; a servile press his organ, he
crams his absurdities upon the world, which, surprised at
his impudence, scarce knows whether to resent it or despise
the vain ape—who makes his admirers, not by his
talents, but his feasts; for indeed in what doth this creature
excel? with a lamb's heart and a sheep's head, he
is superior in but one quality, selfishness—an utter disregard
to every principle except his own views; and that
the ideas of a physician on this are equal to any other intriguer's
is not to be doubted, when we remember how
the public purse hath been fleeced by these preservers
of health, when we recall the successive experiment of
that famous botanist and lucky alchymist, who turned a
garden of rotten herbs and stinking weeds to gold, by
means alone of a broad face of brass.[5] And to proceed,
what in reality are all these scientific, historical, graphical,
philosophical, and charitable societies, but so many
respectable names for associations of gourmands and
topers? What single assistance hath been derived by the
student from their frequent revels, save there be science,
virtue, or learning in dissipated habits, and the practice
of horrid acts of debauch; the foundation of such institutions,
says Addison, are on eating and drinking: the vulgar
and the ignorant are modest, they gulp their drams
in secret and alone, but it is the pride of learned men to
guzzle in crowds, and show their gluttony to the world,
to fill the journals of the day with their pleasantries in
their cups, in the shape of hackneyed sentiments, whose
dullness not even wine can enliven, and which, in numbers,
are an army of compliments, that drunken rivals belard
each other with, so that the hardest skull would be
fairly cracked, e'er one could get half through with a
glass to each; indeed, it is now considered as an extraordinary
annunciation to state, that at such festals `all
things went off with proper and becoming decorum,'
which, in plainer language, signifies that no thick headed
professor[6] got so beastly drunk that he was obliged to be
carted home at midnight; or that no tunbellied alderman
(which sort of cotton bales are always ex-officio honorary
members of philosophical associations, probably owing
such dignified preferments to the profound knowledge
which these venerable worthies ever discover at carving
the best portion of a public contract for themselves, as
well as the breast or wing of a goose; or otherwise the
honour may be a matter of course, granted out of respect
to the nautical skill shown by the `grave signors,' in
steering clear of fines and sequestrations, when they break
the laws they help to enact) gave in of a surfeit at the
fourth course, in evident fear of bursting, though doubtless,
there is more heading than hooping wanted among
such rioters; still they are fully on an equality with those
companies who are ostensibly congregated for benevolent
purposes; for from them (natheless their apparent object,)
what hath the sick or poor benefitted? there are as many
destitute, sinking unrelieved in want and disease as before
such societies existed; the tavern and the wine
cellar hath truly gained by them, but it is a question if
ever the lazar hath been bettered a meal from their banquets,
the exercises of which are pretty much the same
with those celebrated by order of the Macedonian conqueror
at the funeral pyre of Calanus, a combat of hard
drinkers, of whom it is related, nearly forty died on the
spot, from the power of the grape, and he who triumphed
did scarce survive his hard got victory the brief space of
thirty-six hours.[7] Such being the performances of those
who call themselves the learned and respectable, what can
be expected from the herd who must follow in their wake,
but that they are equally contaminated, and alike dissolute.
There is not a single occurrence that is not tainted with
vileness and abandoned knavery; your very neighbour,
nay, your dearest friend chuckles delighted, if for the value
of a farthing he can cheat you; and thinks it a rare
jest to tell his cunning to your face, and laugh at your
credulity. All is overreaching duplicity, and the more
apparent the sharper, the more barefaced the rogue; the
more the man is lauded: and he who fairly hath in justice
won the halter, and from which it would be hard to rescue
him in any other country, is the one who is most trusted,
finds the most defenders, and indeed, in the world's opinion,
stands the clearest. His rogueries are quoted by
the admiring crowd as specimens of talent, his hair-breadth
escapes from the clutches of the law are but passports of
respectability. But it must be remembered these remarks
are qualified; for the knave must be a rich one; that as
well as he hath preserved his neck, he hath kept his
plunder; for `an he be a poor rogue' the Lord help him,
he will find himself as bad off as an honest man. But that
the city of our residence is crowded with characters
as described, may in one wise be accounted for, since it is
the great mart of adventure, where all the itinerant vagabonds
of the continent gather en masse, for the sake of
pushing their fortunes, or, rather, of preying on those of
better folks. To one point they flock like a flight of carrion
crows about a corpse, determined to devour; without
a solitary dollar, they look for maintenance in the pockets
of others; upon nothing, except an eager wit, barefaced
assurance, and hungry stomachs, they set out, and with full
purses, swaggering consequence and arrogant pride, as
might be expected from their means, do they end their
journies of adventure. Here comes a troop of half-starved,
beggarly, breechless, ragged, lean, long-necked Yankee
lawyers, schoolmasters, pedlars, and what not, who in all
probability have to a man been drummed out, or whipped
through every town of their own states, ready to cheat,
rob, lie, or talk for any body that will employ them. Firm
in bad principles, and determined to push onwards, is it
to be wondered that the lawyer, who had at home tended
pigs, fed poultry, sowed pumpkins, and skinned onions, in
a little while is elevated—not to the gallows, oh, no! but
to the bench of the judge, or a seat in the hall of congress,
—for where could the populace find a more convenient representative,
or one more willing to slave for his constituents,
so as he makes his own fortune. The schoolmaster,
who used to sit, and deem it an honour too, in a
corner of the deacon's kitchen, where he was on board,
and sleep in the garret, among rats, old boots, broken spinning-wheels,
dust, draperies of dried peppers, peaches, and
molasses jars, is metamorphosed into an impudent office-hunter,
boastful of his services and his pretensions, or a
corrupt scribbler, with a pen for all occasions, and for every
party that may believe him worth the purchasing. And
lastly, the pedlar, whose whole employment had been to
take in the `fellers and gals' with trumpery baubles, whose
best meals were the charity of the farmers where he stopped,
Indian pudding baked beans, `sarse, and innards,'
whose happiness had been to rest in a barn upon straw, or
among the corn-stalks, and whose highest ideas had been
to mount the horse which he stole from his customers, or
to sit on the ducking stool; this creature is changed in
a short period, by the prosperous trade of deception and
knavery he has pursued, to the lofty nosed merchant,
who would fain carry his head as high as the mast of one
of his own ships; the cock-sparrow of the exchange,
whose capital is the credit he can obtain from all the fools
who are eager to trust him; and there are no lack of these,
for heaven knows there are five times as many who would
put confidence in, and lend money to a knave, a sheet
rascal, than a poor honest man; for in truth, it is no wonder,
it is more satisfactory; for at once you are acquainted
with what you are to expect, for the latter can and will
only pay you as he is able, which is oftentimes giving a
long time, while the former, like an upright fellow, puts
you straightway out of all misery, by telling you `you
are an impolite dog to ask any thing of a man of honour,
who condescended to receive your paltry goods, and since
you are so importunate, he'll be damn'd if he ever pays you
at all; you may sue an you like—who cares a jot? no
one need trouble himself while there is a Recorder and
an Insolvent Act in New-York.' Thus do these men
vaunt, and while they push themselves into consequence,
gentility, and even power, the good citizen, the gentleman,
who seeks for happiness in retirement, or as virtue
is always backward, is too modest to thrust himself, whatever
may be his just claims, on public favour, remains
neglected, his very existence unknown, without influence
or name; while yet these creatures, usurping his place
in the community, the scum of dirt and impurity, the
origin of the kennel, still unwashed and rank with filth,
all flimsiness and vapour, obtrude themselves with giant
airs in every public business of importance: is a committee
formed to encourage some noble national object, are
the names you read of such committee, men of worth or
respectability? No. they are these self-imposed, self-nominated
chaps, who take care by a ready out-a-door cut
and dried plan, to figure in the public prints, in places
where worth, honesty, integrity, respectability and
learning are wanted, and ought to have been. If a station,
no matter what, be vacant, though it be one that demands
men of the choicest to uphold, it is sure to be first
sought after by these blood suckers: indeed, so unparalleled
is their audacity, that the good have become inert
and indifferent; and these have been besotted with
success, and really begin to believe themselves the mighty
personages they would be, and of that moment, that the
world without their aid, would come to a dead stop; and
they break out on the astonished natives, with all the
airs of a jay, when disguised in the peacock's plumage.

Away with such upstarts! these great little men—these
time serving, dirt born objects of self-conceited mightiness—these
insignificant, detestable parasites—faithless
to every virtue, and undeserving of the name of man.
The influence arising from the laxity of morals, that has
been treated on, is most severely felt in the decay it
brings to the very heart of the social virtues; there, indeed,
it strikes home, and no barrier can be raised against
the attack: as the customs of the day become contaminated,
all must alike be injured; and even women, lovely
women, whose primeval brightness is as beautiful as
the sunny blossoms of the laburnum wound in a chaplet
for the brows of Spring, is touched with the fatal spirit,
and is fast casting away all that adorned her, as she
would a yoke of slavery; for that which delights her
ear, and is termed by its professors a strain of innocent
gallantry, is but a scarce veiled tirade of shameless licentiousness:
and it appears as if all a female now aims
at is to be noticed by the crowd, either for the richness
or the singularity of her dress; it is not a difficult thing
to be singular, says the Abbe Le Blanc, persons need
only push their character, whatever it be, to excess, and
have no regard to decency—and on this principle, do
the ladies of the day act; to spend hour after hour at
the toilette—to dress so as to be mistaken for the painted
bawds of the brothel—to parade the streets with no
earthly object, but to gratify their vanity and be seen—
to discourse or laugh so loud, as to attract all eyes—to
toss their heads affectedly—to utter affected phrases and
conceited words—to read novels filled with lack-a-daisical
sentimentalities; these, and no more are needed, to
make an accomplished belle; and these are the pleasant
amusements of the most fashionable—who plume themselves
on being the mirrors of elegance and manners.
However, that a want of delicacy should be theirs, is not
surprising, when we behold among their evening resorts,
the playhouse takes a conspicuous station—for what but
ill can arise from frequenting the very hot bed of vice—
the building within whose walls debaucbery is licensed,
and immorality is countenanced? the theatre hath had

its enemies, and its hired defenders; the good and ill
effects of the drama, hath been often pointed out, oftentimes
cried out unto the heedless world, who care not,
in the search for enjoyment, whether the grasp is good
or evil: suffice it to say, on the one point, no man of
reason can be an enemy to the drama—I mean the written
works of genius—the perusal—the honest enaction
of some of which, if it were withheld from the
world, would be a loss to virtue, of lessons more
powerful, more impressive, than a thousand homilies
from the lips of paid preachers; but it is the mimics,
the charlatans, the performers, and the fashion of the
enaction, that every moral man should condemn; in
these consist the danger, and the causes for which
the theatre should be shunned, even as a pest-house,
where disease and death is to be received. What
is the life of an actor? drunkenness, debauchery, harlotry
and dissipation of every kind. Who are these men? vagabond
strollers at first, characters of the most desperate
description, who have had but one choice, the highway
or the stage. Enter into the walls, and behold the passing
scene:—can any female who hath the least feeling or
modesty, nay, can a man, who is not lost to every sense
of right and shame, look on without his very soul being
harrowed up in disgust and indignation. Behold yon losel,
his eye yet glaring with the late wassail, while the paint,
necessary to the character he has assumed, can scarce
disguise the parched and sallow cheek his long life of dissipation
hath left him: still, though before an audience,
doth he believe himself in the brothel, and the chaste diction
of the poet doth deform with interpolations and actions
which, though it may please the swine who herd in the
pit and gallery, sickens the sight, and is not fit for man or
woman, who are not outcasts, to hear or look upon. And
then, is there a drinking house about the purlieus of the
town where there is more riotous revelry, or more encouragement,
open and unbridled by law, for youth to be led
astray. A portion of the building is set aside for the sale
of every liquor, and for the exhibition of ladies of easy
virtue, and these are in the very glance of the fair and
virtuous dames who frequent the house, and who, be as
fastidious as they may, cannot turn their eyes, lest they
should be blasted with lewd and lascivious actions that
would cause the blood to rush warm to their brows, while
their cheeks glow with crimson, like the sun-touched nectarine.
On one ground, the defenders of the stage have
plumed themselves, that there have been females who have
followed it as a profession, who have been virtuous;—this
may be, but the examples are so rare they can scarce be
designated, and the very boast of it discovers how few
there are, and the poorness of this defence. This opinion
on this matter is not the formation of an hour; I have had
the opportunity, and my remarks have facts, `stubborn
facts,' to found their sentiments upon; the very nature of
an actress' life is such that she must be a woman of little
honour:—for what modest female would expose herself before
the sight, the rude and daring eyes of thousands, and
bear the remarks, and the examination, of the sensualist
and the debauchee; for their amusement assume dresses,
habits unbecoming her sex, and even common modesty.
The courtezan will not expose herself in the light, but
here, women pretending virtue deck themselves in worse
attire than the livery of harlots and prostitutes; then, the
scenes that are gone through with, should be as abhorrent
to a female as to a male:—the liberties allowed and
taken in the view of hundreds, such as none who felt for
herself would admit for mines of wealth; then, the allowances
presumed to follow naturally from the public conduct,
in secret must be such, are such as to leave but little
doubt that it is impossible for a woman who has respect
for herself to be an actress, or to follow the stage for
a livelihood; and these ideas are confirmed by every
printed life of women of this class to be found. Ought,
then, such a place to be encouraged as a resort? The
brothel of infamy should be preferred to the stage, which
is alone prostituted to show off bawds, drunkards, and
gambling sharpers. And do not those who encourage impurity
by resorting to the home of charlatry, soon feel the
ill effects:—it is the rock whereon youth is wrecked oftener
than any other that can be shown; it leads to drunkenness,
gaming, and every other wickedness. There have been
formed societies to suppress vice; they will persecute the
poor wretch who steals for his bread, and yet the very
root of crime is maintained, the abode of sharpers, dissipation
and ruin; for there is an enchantment about the
theatre—beauty that is to be bought, and riot that can be
pursued; the apprentice will rob his master, the child his
parent; the husband hath taken the labour of the day to
gain him admission, while at home his family are wanting
food; a few years beholds the first an inmate of a
prison; the second a poor lost wretch, discarded from
his home, and begging for money to obtain liquor, that
all reflection may be drowned in its overwhelming influence;
the last the pander of some brothel, while
the sod covers the broken heart of his wife, and his
innocent and unfortunate offspring are scattered on the
bosom of the cold and pitiless world. Nor in addition to
the theatre, is there much obtained by the visiting of
public places, and festal routs and dances, in the manner
which they are now conducted; where lascivious
coquetry, is termed an innocent flirtation—where to be
in perfect mode and full dress, for a female, is to be attired
in unblushing indecency, that attracts the wanton
gaze of the multitude—where every thing between the
sexes appears an easy familiarity—where practice supercedes
persuasion, and prudence gives way to a wish
to be admired—where, rather than not be noticed, an
indelicate display of figure, and a flagrant violation of
decorum, may be resorted to, without attracting an indignation
on the audacious exhibition, but rather a flood
of praise, at either the grace, ease or agility, with which
the being who degrades herself for such celebrity, performs
her part, the only merit of which is, the gross exposure
of her person, at which modesty shudders, and
the feelings revolt in shame and sorrow, but which is
alone felt by the timid spectator: but it is needless—it is
a mere waste of labour, to speak on subjects which there
is neither care nor inclination to reform, and which,
though vices, are admired, are patronised, and reckoned
virtues; which it is the fortune of their possessors to
practise, and which, ere the mind, so besotted is it, can
be weaned from, and modesty come in fashion, an entire
new race must arise, with different examples, and different
principles, as their standards of action. Such are
the effects of modern fashions, and improved and polished
customs—far otherwise were those of the days
which are treated of in the pages of this narrative;
however wickedness lurked concealed in the heart, it
dared not boldly rush on the gaze; and although it
must be confessed, the practices of villany were not
uncommon, yet honest virtue was admired, and sometimes
showed its face, a thing now rare and unremembered.

It was early on the evening of the day which the
traveller parted from his companions and preservers,
that a throng of persons were assembled in the principal
apartment of the governor's house, which was situated
in the interior of Fort Willem Hendrick, or as it was then
most properly called, Fort Orange, or Aurania, the principal
defence of the city of New-Yorke: this building was
one not only ancient but of considerable splendour and
size—and although in the present time, its low walls and
pannelled wainscot would have been derided as scarce
comporting with the dignity fit for the dwelling of a man
whose notions were the least extensive, or who bore his
head among the dashing part of the community, yet at the
period written of, this same house was considered a complete
palace—a wonder of architecture—and together with
the new City Hall and prison, which was situated at Coenties
Slip, the ornament of the great city; it was a broad
square building of stone, painted yellow, with fine gravel
walks the whole length of the house, and a huge wide
entry, with a double door, and a brazen, snake-twisted,
and lion-headed knocker, lustrous with cleaning; its
situation was commanding; it was placed on the brow of
the hill, on whose rugged sides the white washed walls
of the wooden bastions, bristling with demi sacker, falcon
and culverin, ran like an encircling serpent almost to the
edge of the water, where in sight its white sails trembling
in the early twilight, glided along some fleeting periauger

bound on its northern river voyage, or where lay at silent
anchor on the undulating waves, their black masts shadowing
the surface, a whole fleet of yatchen that had made
the port, and were hastening to moor beside the Capsey[8]
and the protecting docks and Rounduyten,[9] like a brood of
young wild fowl hieing to nestle beneath the sheltering
wing of the parent bird. On one side, at a distant point,
the dusk and vapour of the night, whose shadows were
fast spreading around, bounded the prospect, so that the
wide river and the dark clouds were mingled as it were
in one element. At another view, yet nearer to the eye,
were spread the bleak, rugged and desolate land of Pavonia,
its hills chequered with tracks of snow, and the
bare brown soil which the bright rays of the day, that
was now fleeting, had uncovered; and close under the
shadow of the beach could be seen the long dark lines of
ice that skirted its shores, like the chain about a captive,
looking stern, cheerless and wintry, unmoved by the departing
beams of the light that lingered longest on them,
and played on the cold and frozen visage of the gelid
waters, like the faint smiles that cross the brows of the
dying ere the last departure; while, yet nearer, almost in
the centre current of the stream, borne by the quick and
nervous tide, floated onwards with a noise like the hissing
of a serpent, huge fragments of the frozen wave, that
often in their instant-shaped masses bore pieces of bark
that had been peeled by the wind from off the lichen or
the fir that waved on the stern and rocky sides of the
stoney point, or on the towering heights of the pallisadoes,
and which, ere another morning's brightness was born,
were dashed about, atoms on the foaming and giant waves
of the ocean, or were weltering amid the breakers that wash
the beach of the last island that stands the uttermost link
between the world of waters and the huge continent; even
like the race of life—for how incredible doth it seem that
the infant nurtured in the soft luxury of the tropics should
moulder in death, after the storm of existence, amid the
snows of some polar region. On the other side, close
under the battlements of the fort, lay the city; its dark
and crowded houses; its close, narrow streets; its wharfs;
its magazines, all huddled in one mass, like some great
hive, filled with life and riches. A strange diversity, however,
did that hill (from whence the ancient governors of
the province looked on their metropolis) still stand would
present itself to the sight, now street on street, spire on
spire, to the very stretch of vision, would have burst on
the sight; the smoke of thousands of dwellings would
have been seen curled in the blue sky; the masts of
mighty shipping pennon on pennon; the hum of commerce,
which then to have been dreamed of would have
been believed a tale of magic; the rolling and rattling of
numerous vehicles, like sounds of distant thunder, would
have broke upon the ear, and the thought and eye would
have been lost in the vastitude of all on which it turned;
while, then one might have counted every dwelling, and
have repeated the names of the inmates; for at one gaze
every principal object was apparent. Here rose the belfries
of the churches, built in the true Duch taste, and
shaped after the fashion of the oil jars of Zwannerdam;
there was the tiled roof of the Stadhuys, the grandest
building in the colony, and, by the best informed worthy
of the Manahadoes, said to be only exceeded in the world
by the building devoted to the same purpose at Amsterdam;
there was, also, the wooden spire of the Borse, an
edifice likewise in great estimation, being indisputably the
finest of its kind, except the house of the Hanse Towns,
the glory of the Osterlingen traders of Antwerp, having a
tin weather-cock at the top, by which every New Amsterdammer
corrected his wind when he had gone astray in
the calculation thereof, and then the long bridge, which
ran out in the public dock could be distinguished, crowded
with the groodt Burgerrecht, in their red flannel vestcoats,
calico morning-gowns and cocked hats, haggling
and chaffering with the swearing skippers of the Albanisch
yatchen, remarkable for their worsted caps, the
manufacture of the knitting vrouws of Ohnewalagantle,[10]
and their greasy leathern breeches; while not far distant
the skirts of the town were perceptible, with its wooden
block houses and palisadoes, its gates, slaughter-house,
and taverns; and then there lay the country around,
studded interchangeably with hills, commons, and swampy
kolcks that were crossed by slight plank bridges, and
bounded by innumerable wind-mills, whose huge arms
were continually waving in the wind, and the Bowerische
Laening, and gay plantagnies from the Crown point[11] as far
as sight could reach.

The room in the great house, in which were the characters
who are about to be described, was large and spacious,
partaking at once of the dignity and grandeur befitting
the audience chamber of the ruler of the mighty province
of New-Yorke: having great chimney places, with china
jambs, decorated with the ancient story of Abraham and
Isaac, and marvellously illustrative of other parts of scripture;
the walls were lined with pannelled wainscoat, of
an antique fashion, whose oaken surface shone lustrous
with wax; the ceilings were low and dark, and the windows
wondrous wide and short, like embrasures, and the
casements were filled with small square panes of glass, of
a greenish cast, which had been brought from Bummel, in
Guilderland, for the purpose; around were hung numerous
paintings, most of which partook of the different tastes
that had swayed the various persons who had been masters
of this sumptuous residence: there were portraitures
of fish, and fruit, and game; of the planting and decorating
of May trees; there were country frolics, card playings,
and other drolleries of the low countries; the copies of
Gerard Dow, Jan Steen, Teniers, and Wouvermans, and
also in splendid frames shone forth the family likenesses
of most of the former Governors; the ladies in court
dresses, and tall stately caps and trim bodices, with hoop
petticoats, and waists like hour glasses, with roses in their
hands and birds on their jewelled fingers, often representing
fair smiling eyed sheperdesses, with crooks and

ribands at their feet, and large gold pendants in their ears,
and having boys on their laps, intended for cupids, but
dressed, in spite of pinions, quiver, and darts, in ample
jerkins, with laced ruffles and points, bag wigs, and blue
silk small clothes, having also high heeled shoes, with
points curling upwards at the toe, like the prows of the
canoe of a South-Sea islander, and paste buckles, both at
the instep and the knee; while the gentlemen themselves,
with stern brows and monstrous mustachios almost hanging
down to their starched ruffs, clad with steel cuirasses
and breast-plates, and surrounded with all the harness of
war, frowned grimly forth from the canvass; on a raised
settle in one corner, flourishing in an earthen pot, were
several beautiful tulips, from Alemaer, and some other
flowers, that were in those times the Hollander's passion;[12]
tables with huge claw feet holding balls, were set out in
different parts of the well sanded floor, and a brisk fire
crackled on the clean hearth, about whose immediate
neighbourhood, partly induced by the severity of the season,
and partly by the attraction of its being the station of
the entertainers, most of the occupants of the apartment
had placed themselves, and the hosts themselves, seemingly
proud of being the objects of universal attention, (for,
as is always in such cases, the guests like gay butterflies,
fluttering in the perfume of lordly flowers, hovered about
them) appeared greedily to devour the gratifying flatteries
that they were busied in pouring in their ears; and truly
they were two stately personages, bearing about them
every mark of their dignity, both in apparel and demeanour,
and but scantily wanting in confidence of their own
worthiness; they had equally that assumed air of greatness,
of lofty carriage, of solemn bearing, and that pompous
utterance, that in modern instances is so common,
that marks our mud-born, dirt-bred, wealth-elated, and
self-created gentry, whose greatest accomplishments and
virtues consist in their living high, and keeping a splendid
equipage; and about these there was that strained
condescension in address, that awkward affectation of
humility, and that self-sufficient, supercilious air, which
we see daily enacted in some mongrel, who, lifted up by
the ignorance of popular favour and fortuitous chance,
rather than his own deserts, puts on the garment of authority,
and would seem all meekness to his equals, while
his very soul is o'errun with pride and overbearing
tyranny; and indeed such had been the fortunes of
Leisler;—his unexpected rise and success, his want of cultivation
of mind, while his wife, unused to the place in
which she found herself, and but ill adapted to play the
part which she was forced to act, that both studious to
bear the investitures of state in a becoming fashion, naturally,
at times, too far forgot what they had been, in contemplating
(what every body else seemed to do) that which
they were; and if this feeling was carried to an extreme
in the bosom of one more than the other, it was in that of
the female, who was in her every action a very daughter
of Eve; and there was no lack of foundation in the general
rumour, that she was a very devil incarnate of pride,
and where her helpmate was deficient, she, like a dutiful
spouse, was ever ready to assist him—albeit, the dame's
garb was a type of her nature, and at once bespoke her
character, for so loaded and bowed down with dress and
decoration was she, that she might have been likened to
some sumpter caparisoned steed in the pageant, bowing
and nodding his head at every step beneath the loads of
drooping plumes and embroidered ribands that adorned
it—but for a likeness, one need but look in the crowd of
these times, and we find that most of our ladies appear to
believe that every thing they need possess, are gew-gaws
and finery, and when so decked out they will be more
admired than if they had no other attractions than modesty,
virtue and good sense, things, that with many of the sex
are now of less moment than a brilliant head-dress and a
rich wreath. How little do they judge the brightest jewel
fair woman boasts, is in her purity of heart: and then
what need of art—can it excel that which heaven itself
hath made? those diamonds in her eyes, her teeth of
pearl, and lips of living rubies—so soft, so sweet, formed
alone to breathe love's own peculiar eloquence of bliss,
and enchain in wilful bondage all that listen to the music,
that gathers a deeper witchery from the pass that shapes
it. But while treating on this subject dame Leisler
is disregarded: a want of respect and a degree of inattention
which it is well are committed under the present circumstances,
for had it happened otherwise, and in the days of
the matron, it would have been long ere forgiveness was
granted to a crime which she would have considered of the
greatest magnitude, and which it would have gone far did
she not resent with a withdrawal of all her good graces and
favour from the presumptuous offender. But ere that homage
of description is rendered unto her appearance
that it so well demanded, it behoves for the information
of the reader to premise, lest he be startled at what he
might deem incongruous, if not ridiculous in the fashion
of the times whereof this is written, that it should be remembered
that those days were not as now, when scarce
an hour passes ere with indifferent eye we behold the dark
prow of some foreign bark laden with the silks, and
cloths, and furs of countries which are divided from us by
a thousand leagues of ocean, seeking our wharves; when
the gaudy mantles and the lace-trimmed dress, the very
likeness of those which hung on the white shoulders of
the luxurious beauties of the European capitals but a few
days before, are to be obtained from the hands of our own
tradesmen, who need not encouragement in their extravagance
or their wanton profuseness of expense, however
adverse to the boasted simplicity of our manners, which a
few uninformed, prejudiced fools trumpet alike with the
purity of our government and institutions, which are all the
same, cankered and rotten. For what lack we in corruption
more than the ancient world? younger we are, it is true, but
not the less matured in vice, although we want the means
—the unbounded riches that are possessed by the hereditary
courtiers and titled sycophants, against whose sumptuousness
of living, whose idle debaucheries, whose wanton
waste of wealth we are inveighing so bitterly; yet, is
not our crowd made up of the same materials, if not of a
worse kind? Doth not our petty dignitary of a day,
though rank with native littleness of soul, in all except the
gratification of his own desires, ape in furniture, in show,
the pride, the habit, and, as far as able, the prodigal expenditures
of the most vile and lavish of the old metropolises?
We read, as if in wonder, of the gaudy finery of
some foreign gala; the brilliant and costly garbs; the
jewelled head dress whose purchase were a fortune; and
many say,—thank God, we have not such extremes of unmeasured
possession and abject poverty. Ye are blind
—ye are besotted—ye are ignorant of your own natures;
for look at home—look to yourselves, behold the staring
finery of your wives, your daughters. You are not rich
—can you afford this? the soft carpets, cushioned and
gilded couches, magnificent dwellings, with all their priceless
decorations which surround you, and which so plainly
speak that, were there an ability with you to carry things
to the same extent that you have appeared to contemn,
there were no need of desire. And then it should be recollected
that if some expend in the great cities (to which
our eyes are always bent, in spite of our pretended consequence
in our own superiority) their countless gold in
banquets, follies, riots and eccentricities, there are many
blessed from birth with education, liberal views and tastes,
(things that, from our very situation, our great men being
but a part of the dregs of society, narrow in principle, devoted
to dishonesty and their own interests, are very
rare among us;) who extend the open hand unto the deserving;
who foster talent and encourage virtue, and
whose pride seems to be that of exalting to merited praise
the land which they inhabit? Let us not talk of freedom,
of virtue beyond our fellows—we have no real freedom,
no real virtue. Man is the same, though born in the
splendid and luxuriant chambers of a kingly palace, or
drawing breath in the cities of the new world; the same,
I mean, in ambition, in pride, in weakness; though the
first hath the advantage of being accustomed from the
cradle to a lofty station, while the latter carries in his
place the ignorant vanity and assumption of superiority,
natural to little minds suddenly elevated, together with
all the despicable ignorance of early education. And further,
what do we see so heinous in the actions of the
young or old of the nations from whence came our ancestors.
Are the women of Gaul more given to looseness of
manners, or to actual immodesty and lasciviousness than
our own? there may be with us less openness of character,
more disguise, more cloaked hypocrisy, but there is little
difference as to true virtue, where the very churches are
the concerted places of criminal design. Are the men of
England more given to the gambling table, the race course
or the wassail than our own; it is true from our situation,
fortunes cannot be sported at a single cast of the dice,
for fortunes are but rare; but are there not hosts of
sharpers, jockeys and drunkards in every sphere of our
society. Look at the flushed cheek, the feverish lip, the
blood-shot eye, yea, the premature old age of our youth,
their early graves, if proof be wanted of dissipation. Go to
the brothel, the stews, the tavern and the play-house, they
are crowded with reckless, beardless boys, rioting and
drinking; rushing onwards, unrestrained by their weak
guardians, to embrace loathsome disease and death. But
it was otherwise in the olden day of the province; there
were then but few chances of imitation of the grandeur of
the European; for often six long and wearying months
would slowly take their flight, and, many times, a year
has gone by without one adventurous vessel laving her
sides in the waters of the Hudson, having crossed the far
sea from the mother country; and when she did come
crowds, nay, the whole town would assemble, and look
on her hardy navigators in astonishment; question on
question would be sought from the master down to the
cabin boy, and all would be mad with rumour and news,
from the fort of Aurania to Herman Rutger's brew house;
the very mariners themselves were gazed on as strange
men—beings of another species; who had seen distant
countries, who had eat and drank beyond seas, and who,
above all, had seen the king. From the discourse of
such, from rude description and the ventures brought by
these, were the fashions of the province set; which, first
being sported by the dames of the big house in the fort,
went from them by degrees to the damsels of the Holy
Land, and, now and then, would intrude in the house of
some Dutch burgher, and mix with the old, unvarying,
established habits, which had been left to ya vrouw by her
moeder, who probably had inherited them from her moeder's
moeder; so that it was in nowise uncommon on
great occasions to behold the matrons of Nieuw Amsterdam
decked out in garments that liberally partook of the
fashions of Holland, England, France, and Spain, all united
in motley assemblage on the shoulders of one person,
and very seldom did these parts, as it may be supposed,
agree either in colours, or were they of the same century,
and although this incongruity would not be inapplicable
to the dress worn by ladies at present, which
often, so they be very showy and fine, have but little
regard to being suitable to the modesty, figure, or character
of the wearer—how these remarks are relative to
the attire of Dame Leisler, which I was about to treat on,
the reader himself will be the best judge; for truly she
was decorated up to the eyes in all that was then considered
splendid, and as is now termed `respectable among
the fashionables,' that is, she looked as if she was somebody;
for she was a woman on whom almost any thing
might be put, and it would be `vastly becoming, and
amazingly genteel;' indeed, as is vulgarly said, she was
an armful: built like a herring hoy, or a Dutch dotkin,
measuring more round the waist than she appeared to
have in height, with a little red nose, as brilliant as a
ruby, small sparkling eyes, and cheeks shining like a
kitchen maid's, and a chin hanging like a bladder, while,
to increase such charms, on her head she wore a huge,
monstrous, crisped and curled powder tower, which
supported as it was, looked like a lighthouse built
upon a mile stone, or rather a church steeple on the
top of a hogshead; her face, moreover, after the style
(ludicrous enough; but what will not fashion do?)
that had, but a short period before, reigned generally
among the ladies of the English Court, was literally seamed
and depatched with sundry pieces and strips of black
sticking plaister, representing in varied forms, coaches
and horses, half-moons and stars, all placed, however, by
her tirewoman in an artful manner, to set off the sly darts
cast by Cupid, by means of winning smiles and dimples,
that, with the most delightful expression, always, (except
in certain moments, which usually chanced when
she and her husband were undisturbed with the presence
of a third person,) lighted up her jovial visage; added to
what has been already particularized, was a gown of flame
coloured brocade, somewhat faded it is true, but amply
figured and flowered with monstrous tulips, Dutch pinks,
and staring roses; and then her waist was set off with an
enormous stomacher, and although her sleeves scarcely
reached to her elbows, yet the richly laced and highly
worked ruffles that depended therefrom, hung nearly to the
end of her fingers, while there was not a portion, however
diminutive, of her attire, but was flaunted with gay
furbelows and ribands of a bright calico colour—thus decorated
and adorned, it is no wonder that her husband,
poor man, on this occasion as in many others, sunk in the
scale of comparison, for though there was not much difference
in similitude of figure, he being a broad backed,
heavy moulded looking man, yet in movement she had
comparatively the advantage, for she glided about her
room of audience, among the swarm of Dutch damsels
assembled, like a shining gold fish, swimming round
his glass prison; nevertheless, it must be confessed,
she forgot not her elevation for a moment, for she bore
her body in such action with the true air of condescension
and grandeur and indeed carried her head loftily,
with a neck, as is vulgarly described, as stiff as a poker
—On the other hand, Jacob Leisler, as it should have
been before remarked, amid all his strained authority,
wore to the inquiring eye, a certain look of care and
uneasiness, that in spite of the inflated mightiness with
which he acted, and which he doubtless supposed necessary
to create respect among his followers evidently tortured
him; and labouring under such feelings his heavy
countenance showed his mind abstracted, and often his
thoughts wandered from the scene before him to the hopes
on which he lived, and to the gathering clouds which were
rolling towards him: the disappointments and defection of
his partizans, that hourly were increasing; the obstinacy
of the country, the steady manner with which Schuyler,
the Mayor of Albany, refused his offers of alliance,
and the encouragement and protection he granted to
the fugitives and bitter enemies of his name, Van Kortlandt,
Bayard, and Graham; the coolness which subsisted
between the people of the country and his son-in-law Milborne,
who, on entering Albany, had rashly and arbitrarily
confiscated the property of many of the principal inhabitants,
who had absconded at his approach; all these pressed
like a weight of lead upon his heart, and he unfortunately
possessed too little of the self-confidence and command of
visage necessary for a statesman to conceal his anxiety.
He was a stout, brawny, square shaped man, having a
stolid and unmeaning set of features; thick eyebrows
shaded his dull and inexpressive blue eyes, and his hair
was of a dark brown hue, cut close to his forehead; he
had short mustachios on his upper lip, and a strait peaked
beard grew unshorn from his chin; he was arrayed in the
solemn and dignified habit of a substantial burgher, with
dark grey stockings rolled over his knees, and immense
buckles and buttons, the last neither inconsiderable in number
or size, a profusion also of the same ornaments graced,
in triple rows, a vest of scarlet velvet, the flaps of which
came to his knee buckles; to complete this dress, a stout
degen, of the true Williamstadt manufacture, with a great
ivory hilt, was girded to his side, while ready for use, at
the wall near at hand, hung a huge three cornered beaver,
and a tortoise shell cane, with a china head and silken
tassels.

On the day, the evening of which is now referred to,
the city had been much disturbed with riot and turmoil
that seemed nearly to threaten an open insurrection:
some of the citizens, who had heretofore expressed a
quiet submission to the authority of Leisler, had suddenly
been stirred up, and apparently without cause, had demanded
a change of the council, while on the other hand,
the steady adherents of the government had strenuously
opposed the measure—the business had been carried to

such high excitement, that large bodies of men had
assembled together, often armed with clubs and offensive
weapons, and every public place was swarmed
with persons who were violently canvassing the merits of
the disputation, inflaming with seditious words their own
anger and that of their hearers; together with this, reports
were currently circulated that a new governor, unfavourable
to the Leisler faction, had been appointed, and
might be momently expected to arrive, and it was even
said that Bayard and Nichols, the latter as bitter a foe as
the former to the present power, had been seen among
the people urging them against their opponents and irritating
the passions of the multitude; and although Milborne
had gone forth and declaimed loudly at every point
which appeared to be disturbed, yet much of his words
were lost on his listeners, who had often received them
in a manner that at once bespoke impatience and dissatisfaction;
however, as it grew later in the day, the exertions
of Leisler's friends were apparently more successful,
and the feelings of the burghers allayed, so that things
had again resumed their former aspect of security, and
the repose becoming an honest Dutch city, once more
reigned in the narrow streets, which was more palpably
evinced by the afternoon's audience; whereat, (and
the fashion of holding a levee had been usual with the
other rulers of the province, once every half year,
a custom which Leisler had thought proper to follow,
as by giving a public reception to the principal citizens,
he might probably inspirit or increase his party,)
there were congregated a great number of the inhabitants,
some induced to attend the audience by their
political sentiments, but by far the greater herd, as is often
equally remarkable in our own times, by no care for the
cause or the giver of the feast, but merely for their own
sakes—for what they could get; indeed, the very pride
of the Dutch youth and beauty of New Yorke were present
in that audience chamber, and it was with no mean
display of gallantry that many a doughty Mynheer, with his
hands in his breeches pockets, strutted beside his favourite
damsel, who, clad in all her beauty, her red calico short
gown, her yellow ear drops, and her necklace of beads of
bright amber as large as marbles, her scarlet kirtle, hood
and wimple, a neat, buxom, bouncing deity, fit for a Hollander's
admiration, simpered and blushed as she was gallanted
through the muddy paths of Petticoat Lane, down
the long hill of der Warmoes-straet,[13] to the heeren gracht
up the hill to the Governor's; where, entering at the
kitchen door, for the great hall entrance was never known
to be unclosed, except upon a marriage or burial, as hath
ever been an invariable Dutch custom, and which was
brought over by the groodt Francois Rombout from
Brock, they strided lovingly into the grand chamber of
reception, which has been described; where, leaving the
object of his attention in the crowd of her own sex there
convened, who were industriously engaged in knitting and
talking scandal, Mynheer sought his own male acquaintances,
with whom he lighted his pipe, drank raspberry wine
and eat cookies, trolled a low Dutch love song, or talked
with the schepin, the knostabel, or the hoofdt schout, on
the affairs of the day, until the hour of departure, which
was duly and seasonably announced by the city bell, which
rang loudly from the steeple of the Gereformeerde Kerck,
(a spire, which, by the way, was believed to be superior to
the handsome one on the cathedral of Utrecht and whose
bell always tolled the hour except when the ringer over-slept
himself in an afternoon's siesto, which he was accustomed
to indulge in after drinking a plentiful draught of
genever;) a half an hour before the tat-too beat at the fort,
when the city gates were closed, and every honest burgher
put on his night cap and crept between his warm striped
woollen blankets, making himself as comfortable as possible,
and consigned himself at once to sleep and dreams
of Butter-vlict cheese, and all the luxuries of his Vaderlandt.

The hour for returning had come, and each stately
Mynheer sought from the assemblage his own charge, and
taking ya vrouw by the arm, and enfolding himself up
from the clear frosty night, he hastened his way homeward,

leaving the dogter under the care of her liefhebber
to follow his footsteps, which, though not long, far, as it
may be supposed, outstripped those of the jongvrouw
and her chosen, who both, perhaps, unconsciously enwrapt
by sweet discourses of Low Dutch, musical and mellifluous,
of mingled vows and tales of eternal constancy, had
wandered away in the loveliness of the night, to enjoy the
lonely solitudes of Vlatten Barrack, and the Green lane,
e'er the city gates were shut and the guard set; making,
in the old saying, the longest way round the shortest
home. Party after party slowly prepared to separate
from the gay group they had heretofore commingled
with; every body was on the move, and the crowd momently
lessened, leaving only those behind at last, who
love to be the longest, or who lingered round the comfort
of a foreign hearth, from an experience of the uncomfortableness
of that at home. Here might be seen a careful
dame, tucking up her fardingales, or wrapping beneath
her cloak sundry cribbed cookies destined for the
children, who, as she remarked, poor things, were at
home, no doubt, looking for Sante-claus, and they ought
not to be neglected; there was her helpmate, buttoning
his jerkin close under his chin and tying his handkerchief
round his ears, waiting ya vrouw's leisure, who had a
thousand remembrances to whisper her acquaintances,
and was an hour at least in taking leave of the entertainers,
while her impatient lord stood fidgetting, fuming, and
worrying himself sick at her delay, but which seemed to
move her not one jot; and while his visage grew as sour
as a cucumber, she wisely gave his humour full time to
change, and whatever heat, that might have invaded the
equanimity of a usual placable temper, in his impatience
a sufficient opportunity to cool, a thing not likely in a
phlegmatic Nieuw Nederlander to happen in a moment,
except when brought to such utter extremity by kicking
his heels unattended to, and waiting for a spouse who
spurned his honest control in an exposed and wind swept
hall on a winter's evening.