University of Virginia Library

1. CHAP. I.

The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van
Twiller, was descended from a long line of
dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed
away their lives and grown fat upon the bench of
magistracy in Rotterdam; and who had comported
themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety,
that they were never either heard or talked of—
which, next to being universally applauded, should
be the object of ambition of all sage magistrates and
rulers.

His 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, on any doubtful point. This was clearly
accountd for by his adherents, who affirmed that
he always conceived every subject 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 astonishing magnitude of his ideas!

There are two opposite ways by which some
men get into notice—one by talking a vast deal
and thinking a little, and the other by holding
their tongues and not thinking at all. By the first
many a vapouring, superficial pretender acquires
the reputation of a man of quick parts—by the other
many a vacant 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 Governor Van Twiller. On the contrary he
was a very wise dutchman, for he never said a foolish
thing—and of such invincible 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 which 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 about the matter”—
which in process of time gained him the character
of a man slow of belief, 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, far excelling
in magnitude that of the great Pericles (who
was thence waggishly called Schenocephalus, or
onion head)—indeed, of such stupendous dimensions
was it, that dame nature herself, with all her
sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct
a neck, capable of supporting it; wherefore
she wisely declined the attempt, and settled it
firmly on the top of his back bone, just between the
shoulders; where it remained, as snugly bedded,
as a ship of war in the mud of the Potowmac.
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 proportion 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 countenance with what is termed expression.
Two small grey eyes twinkled feebly in the midst,
like two stars of lesser magnitude, in a hazy firmament;
and his full fed cheeks, which seemed to
have taken toll of every thing that went into his
mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked with
dusky red, like a spitzenberg apple.

His habits were as regular as his person. He
daily took his four stated meals, appropriating exactly
an hour to each; he smoked and doubted
eight hours, and he slept the remaining twelve of
the four and twenty. Such was the renowned
Wouter Van Twiller—a true philosopher, for his
mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly settled
below, the cares and perplexities of this world.
He had lived in it for years, without feeling the
least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved
round it, or it round the sun; and he had even
watched for at least half a century, the smoke curling
from his pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling
his head with any of those numerous theories,
by which a philosopher would have perplexed his

brain, in accounting for its rising above the surrounding
atmosphere.

In his council he presided with great state and
solemnity. He sat in a huge chair of solid oak
hewn in the celebrated forest of the Hague, fabricated
by an experienced Timmerman of Amsterdam,
and curiously carved about the arms and feet,
into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's claws.
Instead of a sceptre he swayed a long turkish pipe,
wrought with jasmin and amber, which had been
presented to a stadtholder of Holland, at the conclusion
of a treaty with one of the petty Barbary
powers.—In this stately chair would he sit, and
this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his
right knee with a constant motion, and fixing his
eye for hours together upon a little print of Amsterdam,
which hung in a black frame, against the
opposite wall of the council chamber. Nay, it has
ever been said, that when any deliberation of extraordinary
length and intricacy was on the carpet,
the renowned Wouter would absolutely shut his
eyes for full two hours at a time, that he might not
be disturbed by external objects—and at such times
the internal commotion of his mind, was evinced
by certain regular guttural sounds, which his admirers
declared were merely the noise of conflict,
made by his contending doubts and opinions.

It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled
to collect these biographical anecdotes of the great

man under consideration. The facts respecting
him were so scattered and vague, and divers of
them so questionable in point of authenticity, that
I have had to give up the search after many, and
decline the admission of still more, which would
have tended to heighten the colouring of his portrait.

I have been the more anxious to delineate fully,
the person and habits of the renowned Van Twiller,
from the consideration that he was not only the first,
but also the best governor that ever presided over
this ancient and respectable province; and so tranquil
and benevolent was his reign, that I do not find
throughout the whole of it, a single instance of any
offender being brought to punishment:—a most indubitable
sign of a merciful governor, and a case
unparalleled, excepting in the reign of the illustrious
King Log, from whom, it is hinted, the renowned
Van Twiller was a lineal descendant.

The very outset of the career of this excellent
magistrate, like that of Solomon, or to speak more
appropriately, like that of the illustrious governor of
Barataria, was distinguished by an example of legal
acumen, that gave flattering presage of a wise and
equitable administration. The very morning after
he had been solemnly installed in office, and at the
moment that he was making his breakfast from a
prodigious earthen dish, filled with milk and Indian
pudding, he was suddenly interrupted by the appearance

of one Wandle Schoonhoven, a very important
old burgher of New Amsterdam, 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, was a man of few words,
he was likewise a mortal enemy to multiplying
writings—or being disturbed at his breakfast. Having
therefore listened attentively to the statement of
Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasional grunt,
as he shovelled a mighty 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, dispatched it after the defendant
as a summons, accompanied by his tobacco
box as a warrant.

This summary process was as effectual in those
simple days, as was the seal ring of the great Haroun
Alraschid, among the true believers—the two parties,
being confronted before him, each produced a
book of accounts, written in a language and character
that would have puzzled any but a High Dutch
commentator, or a learned decypherer of Egyptian
obelisks, to understand. The sage Wouter took
them one after the other, and having poised them
in his hands, and attentively counted over the number

of leaves, fell straightway into a very great doubt,
and smoked for half an hour without saying a word;
at length, laying his finger beside his nose, and shutting
his eyes for a moment, with the air of a man
who has just caught a subtle idea by the tail, he
slowly took his pipe from his mouth, puffed forth a
column of tobacco smoke, and with marvellous gravity
and solemnity pronounced—that having carefully
counted over the leaves and weighed the books,
it was found, that one was just as thick and as heavy
as the other—therefore it was the final opinion of
the court that the accounts were equally balanced—
therefore Wandle should give Barent a receipt, and
Barent should give Wandle a receipt—and the constable
should pay the costs.

This decision being straightway made known,
diffused general joy throughout New Amsterdam,
for the people immediately perceived, that they had
a very wise and equitable magistrate to rule over
them. But its happiest effect was, that not another
law suit took place throughout the whole of his administration—and
the office of constable fell into
such decay, that there was not one of those lossel
scouts known in the province for many years. I am
the more particular in dwelling on this transaction,
not only because I deem it one of the most sage
and righteous judgments on record, and well worthy
the attention of modern magistrates, but because it

was a miraculous event in the history of the renowned
Wouter—being the only time he was ever known
to come to a decision, in the whole course of his
life.