University of Virginia Library

5. CHAP V.

Grievous, and very much to be commiserated,
is the task of the feeling historian, who writes the
history of his native land. If it falls to his lot to
be the sad recorder of calamity or crime, the mournful
page is watered with his tears—nor can he recal
the most prosperous and blissful eras, without a
melancholy sigh at the reflection, that they have
passed away forever! I know not whether it be
owing to an immoderate love for the simplicity of
former times, or to a certain tenderness of heart,
natural to a sentimental historian; but I candidly
confess, I cannot look back on the halcyon days of
the city, which I now describe, without a deep dejection
of the spirits. With faultering hand I withdraw
the curtain of oblivion, which veils the modest
merits of our venerable dutch ancestors, and as
their revered figures rise to my mental vision, humble
myself before the mighty shades.

Such too are my feelings when I revisit the

family mansion of the Knickerbockers and spend a
lonely hour in the attic chamber, where hang the
portraits of my forefathers, shrowded 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
lingering current shall soon be stopped forever!

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 appear for an instant to assume
the animation of life—their eyes to pursue me in
every movement! carried away by the delusion of
fancy, I almost imagine myself surrounded by the
shades of the departed, and holding sweet converse
with the worthies of antiquity!—Luckless
Diedrich! born in a degenerate age—abandoned to
the buffettings of fortune—a stranger and a weary
pilgrim in thy native land; blest with no weeping
wife, nor family of helpless children—but doomed
to wander neglected through those crowded streets,

and elbowed by foreign upstarts from those fair
abodes, where once thine ancestors held sovereign
empire. Alas! alas! is then the dutch spirit forever
extinct? The days of the patriarchs, have they
fled forever? Return—return sweet days of simplicity
and ease—dawn once more on the lovely
island of Manna hata!—Bear with me my worthy
readers, bear with the weakness of my nature—or
rather let us sit down together, indulge the full flow
of filial piety, and weep over the memories of our
great great grand-fathers.

Having thus gratified those feelings irresistibly
awakened by the happy scenes I am describing, I
return with more composure to my history.

The town of New Amsterdam, being, as I before
mentioned, left to its own course and the fostering
care of providence, increased as rapidly in
importance, as though it had been burthened with a
dozen panniers full of those sage laws, which are
usually heaped upon the backs of young cities—in
order to make them grow. The only measure that
remains on record of the worthy council, was to
build a chapel within the fort, which they dedicated
to the great and good St. Nicholas, who immediately
took the infant town of New Amsterdam under
his peculiar patronage, and 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 little legendary book somewhere extant,

written in low dutch, which says that the image
of this renowned saint, which whilome graced the
bowsprit of the Goede Vrouw, was placed in front
of this chapel; 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, and consequently
of great importance in this colony of huge feeders.
But as, notwithstanding the most diligent search,
I cannot lay my hands upon this little book, I entertain
considerable doubt on the subject.

This much is certain, that from the time of the
building of this chapel, the town throve with tenfold
prosperity, and soon became the metropolis of
numerous settlements, and an extensive territory.
The province extended on the north, to Fort Aurania
or Orange, now known by the name of Albany,
situated about 160 miles up the Mohegan or Hudson
River. Indeed the province claimed quite to
the river St. Lawrence; but this claim was not
much insisted on at the time, as the country beyond
Fort Aurania was a perfect wilderness, reported to
be inhabited by cannibals, and termed Terra Incognita.
Various accounts were given of the people of
these unknown parts; by some they are described
as being of the race of the Acephali, such as Herodotus
describes, who have no heads, and carry their
eyes in their bellies. Others affirm they were of
that race whom father Charlevoix mentions, as hav

ing but one leg; adding gravely, that they were
exceedingly alert in running. But the most satisfactory
account is that given by the reverend Hans
Megapolensis, a missionary in these parts, who, in
a letter still extant, declares them to be the Mohagues
or Mohawks; a nation, according to his description,
very loose in their morals, but withal most
rare wags. “For,” says he, “if theye can get to bedd
with another mans wife, theye thinke it a piece of
wit.”[7] This excellent old gentleman gives moreover
very important additional information, about this
country of monsters; for he observes, “theye have
plenty of tortoises here, and within land, from two
and three to four feet long; some with two heads,
very mischievous and addicted to biting.”[8]

On the south the province reached to Fort Nassau,
on the South River, since called the Delaware—
and on the east it extended to Varshe (or Fresh)
River, since called Connecticut River. On this

frontier was likewise erected a mighty fort and
trading house, much about the spot where at present
is situated the pleasant town of Hartford; this port
was called Fort Goed Hoop, or Good Hope, and
was intended as well for the purpose of trade as defence;
but of this fort, its valiant garrison, and
staunch commander, I shall treat more anon, as they
are destined to make some noise in this eventful and
authentic history.

Thus prosperously did the province of New Nederlandts
encrease in magnitude; and the early history
of its metropolis, presents a fair page, unsullied
by crime or calamity. Herds of painted savages
still lurked about the tangled woods and the rich
bottoms of the fair island of Manna-hata—the hunter
still pitched his rude bower of skins and branches,
beside the wild brooks, that stole through the cool
and shady valleys; while here and there were seen
on some sunny knoll, a group of indian wigwams,
whose smoke rose above the neighbouring trees and
floated in the clear expanse of heaven. The uncivilized
tenants of the forest remained peaceable neighbours
of the town of New Amsterdam; and our
worthy ancestors endeavoured to ameliorate their
situation as much as possible, by benevolently giving
them gin, rum and glass beads, in exchange for all
the furs they brought; for it seems the kind hearted
dutchmen had conceived a great friendship for their
savage neighbours—on account of the facility with

which they suffered themselves to be taken in. Not
that they were deficient in understanding, for certain
of their customs give tokens of great shrewdness,
especially that mentioned by Ogilvie, who says,
“for the least offence the bridegroom soundly beats
the wife, and turns her out of doors and marries
another, insomuch that some of them have every
year a new wife.”

True it is, that good understanding between our
worthy ancestors and their savage neighbours, was
liable to occasional interruptions—and I recollect
hearing my grandmother, who was a very wise old
woman, well versed in the history of these parts,
tell a long story of a winter evening, about a battle
between the New Amsterdammers and the Indians,
which was known, but why, I do not recollect, by
the name of the Peach War, and which took place
near a peach orchard, in a dark and gloomy glen,
overshadowed by cedars, oaks and dreary hemlocks.
The legend of this bloody encounter, was for a long
time current among the nurses, old women, and
other ancient chroniclers of the place; and the dismal
seat of war, went, for some generations, by the
name of Murderers' Valley; but time and improvement
have equally obliterated the tradition and the
place of this battle, for what was once the bloodstained
valley, is now in the centre of this populous
city, and known by the name of Dey-street.[9]

For a long time the new settlement depended
upon the mother country for most of its supplies.
The vessels which sailed in search of a north west
passage, always touched at New Amsterdam, where
they unloaded fresh cargoes of adventurers, and
unheard of quantities of gin, bricks, tiles, glass
beads, gingerbread and other necessaries; in exchange
for which they received supplies of pork and
vegetables, and made very profitable bargains for
furs and bear skins. Never did the simple islanders
of the south seas, look with more impatience for the
adventurous vessels, that brought them rich ladings
of old hoops, spike nails and looking glasses, than did
our honest colonists, for the vessels that brought them
the comforts of the mother country. In this particular
they resembled their worthy but simple descendants,
who prefer depending upon Europe for necessaries,
which they might produce or manufacture at
less cost and trouble in their own country. Thus have
I known a very shrewd family, who being removed
to some distance from an inconvenient draw well,
beside which they had long sojourned, always preferred
to send to it for water, though a plentiful
brook ran by the very door of their new habitation.

How long the growing colony might have looked

to its parent Holland for supplies, like a chubby
overgrown urchin, clinging to its mother's breast,
even after it is breeched, I will not pretend to say,
for it does not become an historian to indulge in
conjectures—I can only assert the fact, that the inhabitants,
being obliged by repeated emergencies,
and frequent disappointments of foreign supplies, to
look about them and resort to contrivances, became
nearly as wise as people generally are, who are
taught wisdom by painful experience. They therefore
learned to avail themselves of such expedients
as presented—to make use of the bounties of nature,
where they could get nothing better—and thus became
prodigiously enlightened, under the scourge
of inexorable necessity; gradually opening one eye
at a time, like the Arabian impostor receiving the
bastinado.

Still however they advanced from one point of
knowledge to another with characteristic slowness
and circumspection, admitting but few improvements
and inventions, and those too, with a jealous
reluctance that has ever distinguished our respectable
dutch yeomanry; who adhere, with pious and
praiseworthy obstinacy, to the customs, the fashions,
the manufactures and even the very utensils, however
inconvenient, of their revered forefathers. It
was long after the period of which I am writing,
before they discoved the surprising secret, that it
was more economic and commodious, to roof their

houses with shingles procured from the adjacent
forests, than to import tiles for the purpose from
Holland; and so slow were they in believing that
the soil of a young country, could possibly make
creditable bricks; that even at a late period of the
last century, ship loads have been imported from
Holland, by certain of its most orthodox descendants.

The accumulating wealth and consequence of
New Amsterdam and its dependencies, at length
awakened the serious solicitude 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 people are sure
to oppress rich relations with their affection and
loving kindness, who could do much better without
their assistance.

The usual marks of protection shewn by mother
countries to wealthy colonies, were forthwith
evinced—the first care always being to send
rulers to the new settlement, with orders to squeeze
as much revenue from it as it will yield. Accordingly
in the year of our Lord 1629 mynheer
Wouter Van Twiller was appointed governor
of the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, under the
controul of their High Mightinesses the lords

states general of the United Netherlands, and the
privileged West India company.

This renowned old gentleman arrived at New
Amsterdam in the merry month of June, the
sweetest month in all the year; when Dan Apollo
seems to dance up the transparent firmament—when
the robin, the black-bird, the thrush and a thousand
other wanton songsters make the woods to resound
with amorous ditties, and the luxurious little Boblincon
revels among the clover blossoms of the meadows.—All
which happy coincidence, persuaded
the old ladies of New Amsterdam, who were skilled
in 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 a chapter, I will put an
end to this second book of my history, that I may
usher him in, with the more dignity in the beginning
of my next.