University of Virginia Library

THE HISTORY
OF
NEW YORK, &c.

BOOK I.

1. CHAP. I.

THE world in which we dwell is a huge, opake,
reflecting, inanimate mass, floating in the vast etherial
ocean of infinite space. It has the form of an
orange, being an oblate spheroid, curiously flattened
at opposite parts, for the insertion of two imaginary
poles, which are supposed to penetrate and unite at
the centre; thus forming an axis on which the mighty
orange turns with a regular diurnal revolution.

The transitions of light and darkness, whence
proceed the alternations of day and night, are produced

by this diurnal revolution, successively presenting
the different parts of the earth to the rays of
the sun. The latter is, according to the best, that
is to say, the latest, accounts, a luminous or fiery
body, of a prodigious magnitude, from which this
world is driven by a centrifugal or repelling power,
and to which it is drawn by a centripetal or attractive
force; otherwise termed the attraction of gravitation;
the combination, or rather the counteraction
of these two opposing impulses producing a circular
and annual revolution. Hence result the vicissitudes
of the seasons, viz. spring, summer, autumn,
and winter.

I am fully aware, that I expose myself to the
cavillings of sundry dead philosophers, by adopting
the above theory. Some will entrench themselves
behind the ancient opinion, that the earth is an extended
plain, supported by vast pillars; others, that
it rests on the head of a snake, or the back of a huge
tortoise; and others, that it is an immense flat pancake,
and rests upon whatever it pleases God—formerly
a pious Catholic opinion, and sanctioned by a
formidable bull, dispatched from the vatican by a
most holy and infallible pontiff. Others will attack
my whole theory, by declaring with the Brahmins,
that the heavens rest upon the earth, and that the
sun and moon swim therein like fishes in the water,
moving from east to west by day, and gliding back
along the edge of the horizon to their original sta

tions during the night time.[1] While others will
maintain, with the Pauranicas of India, that is a vast
plain, encircled by seven oceans of milk, nectar and
other delicious liquids; that it is studded with seven
mountains, and ornamented in the centre by a mountainous
rock of burnished gold; and that a great
dragon occasionally swallows up the moon, which
accounts for the phenomena of lunar eclipses.[2]

I am confident also, I shall meet with equal opposition
to my account of the sun; certain ancient
philosophers having affirmed that it is a vast wheel
of brilliant fire,[3] others that it is merely a mirror or
sphere of transparent chrystal;[4] and a third class,
at the head of whom stands Anaxagoras, having
maintained, that it is nothing but a huge ignited
rock or stone, an opinion which the good people of
Athens have kindly saved me the trouble of confuting,
by turning the philosopher neck and heels
out of their city.[5] Another set of philosophers, who
delight in variety, declare, that certain fiery particles
exhale constantly from the earth, which concentrating
in a single point of the firmament by day, con

stitute 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, like the lamps in our streets, and require
a fresh supply of exhalations for the next occasion.[6]

It is even recorded that at certain remote and obscure
periods, in consequence of a great scarcity of
fuel, (probably during a severe winter) the sun has
been completely burnt out, and not rekindled for a
whole month. A most melancholy occurrence, the
very idea of which gave vast concern to Heraclitus,
the celebrated weeping Philosopher, who was a
great stickler for this doctrine. Beside these profound
speculations, others may expect me to advocate
the opinion of Herschel, that the sun is a most
magnificent, habitable abode; the light it furnishes,
arising from certain empyreal, luminous or
phosphoric clouds, swimming in its transparent atmosphere.
[7] But to save dispute and altercation
with my readers—who I already perceive, are a captious,
discontented crew, and likely to give me a
world of trouble—I now, once for all, wash my
hands of all and every of these theories, declining
entirely and unequivocally, any investigation of

their merits. The subject of the present chapter is
merely the Island, on which is built the goodly city
of New York,—a very honest and substantial Island,
which I do not expect to find in the sun, or
moon; as I am no land speculator, but a plain matter
of fact historian. I therefore renounce all lunatic,
or solaric excursions, and confine myself to the
limits of this terrene or earthly globe; somewhere
on the surface of which I pledge my credit as a historian—(which
heaven and my landlord know is all
the credit I possess) to detect and demonstrate the
existence of this illustrious island to the conviction
of all reasonable people.

Proceeding on this discreet and considerate
plan, I rest satisfied with having advanced the most
approved and fashionable opinion on the form of this
earth and its movements; and I freely submit it to
the cavilling of any Philo, dead or alive, who may
choose to dispute its correctness. I must here intreat
my unlearned readers (in which class I humbly
presume to include nine tenths of those who
shall pore over these instructive pages) not to be
discouraged when they encounter a passage above
their comprehension; for as I shall admit nothing
into my work that is not pertinent and absolutely essential
to its well being, so likewise I shall advance
no theory or hypothesis, that shall not be elucidated
to the comprehension of the dullest intellect. I
am not one of those churlish authors, who do so

enwrap their works in the mystic fogs of scientific
jargon, that a man must be as wise as themselves to
understand their writings; on the contrary, my
pages, though abounding with sound wisdom and
profound erudition, shall be written with such pleasant
and urbane perspicuity, that there shall not
even be found a country justice, an outward alderman,
or a member of congress, provided he can read
with tolerable fluency, but shall both understand and
profit by my labours. I shall therefore, proceed
forthwith to illustrate by experiment, the complexity
of motion just ascribed to this our rotatory
planet.

Professor Von Poddingcoft (or Puddinghead as
the name may be rendered into English) was long
celebrated in the college of New York, for most
profound gravity of deportment, and his talent at
going to sleep in the midst of examinations; to the
infinite relief of his hopeful students, who thereby
worked their way through college with great ease
and little study. In the course of one of his lectures,
the learned professor, seizing a bucket of
water swung it round his head at arms length; the
impulse with which he threw the vessel from him,
being a centrifugal force, the retention of his arm
operating as a centripetal power, and the bucket,
which was a substitute for the earth, describing a
circular orbit round about the globular head and
ruby visage of Professor Von Poddingcoft, which

formed no bad representation of the sun. All of
these particulars were duly explained to the class of
gaping students around him. He apprised them
moreover, that the same principle of gravitation,
which retained the water in the bucket, restrains the
ocean from flying from the earth in its rapid revolutions;
and he further informed them that should
the motion of the earth be suddenly checked, it
would incontinently fall into the sun, through the
centripetal force of gravitation; a most ruinous
event to this planet, and one which would also obscure,
though it most probably would not extinguish
the solar luminary. An unlucky stripling, one of
those vagrant geniuses, who seem sent into the
world merely to annoy worthy men of the puddinghead
order, desirous of ascertaining the correctness
of the experiment, suddenly arrested the arm of
the professor, just at the moment that the bucket
was in its zenith, which immediately descended with
astonishing precision, upon the philosophic head of
the instructor of youth. A hollow sound, and a
red-hot hiss attended the contact, but the theory
was in the amplest manner illustrated, for the unfortunate
bucket perished in the conflict, but the
blazing countenance of Professor Von Poddingcoft,
emerged from amidst the waters, glowing fiercer
than ever with unutterable indignation—whereby
the students were marvellously edified, and departed
considerably wiser than before.

It is a mortifying circumstance, which greatly
perplexes many a pains taking philosopher, that
nature often refuses to second his most profound
and elaborate efforts; so that often after having invented
one of the most ingenious and natural theories
imaginable, she will have the perverseness to act
directly in the teeth of his system, and flatly contradict
his most favourite positions. This is a
manifest and unmerited grievance, since it throws
the censure of the vulgar and unlearned entirely
upon the philosopher; whereas the fault is not to
be ascribed to his theory, which is unquestionably
correct, but to the waywardness of dame nature,
who with the proverbial fickleness of her sex, is continually
indulging in coquetries and caprices, and
seems really to take pleasure in violating all philosophic
rules, and jilting the most learned and indefatigable
of her adorers. Thus it happened with
respect to the foregoing satisfactory explanation of
the motion of our planet; it appears that the centrifugal
force has long since ceased to operate, while
its antagonist remains in undiminished potency:
the world therefore, according to the theory as it
originally stood, ought in strict propriety to tumble
into the sun—Philosophers were convinced that it
would do so, and awaited in anxious impatience,
the fulfilment of their prognostications. 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 philo's were all at a
non plus, and it is apprehended they would never
have fairly recovered from the slight and affront
which they conceived offered to them by the world,
had not a good natured professor kindly officiated
as mediator between the parties, and effected a reconciliation.

Finding the world would not accomodate
itself to the theory, he wisely determined to accomodate
the theory to the world: he therefore
informed his brother philosophers, that the circular
motion of the earth round the sun was no sooner
engendered by the conflicting impulses above described,
than it became a regular revolution, independent
of the causes which gave it origin—in short,
that madam earth having once taken it into her
head to whirl round, like a young lady of spirit in
a high dutch waltz, the duivel himself could not
stop her. The whole board of professors of the
university of Leyden joined in the opinion, being
heartily glad of any explanation that would decently
extricate them from their embarrassment—and immediately
decreed the penalty of expulsion against
all who should presume to question its correctness:
the philosophers of all other nations gave an unqualified
assent, and ever since that memorable
era the world has been left to take her own course,
and to revolve around the sun in such orbit as she
thinks proper.

2. CHAP. II.

Having thus briefly introduced my reader to the
world, and given him some idea of its form and situation,
he will naturally be curious to know from
whence it came, and how it was created. And indeed
these are points absolutely essential to be
cleared up, in as much as if this world had not
been formed, it is more than probable, nay I may
venture to assume it as a maxim or postulate at
least, that this renowned island on which is situated
the city of New York, would never have had an
existence. The regular course of my history therefore,
requires that I should proceed to notice the
cosmogony or formation of this our globe.

And now I give my readers fair warning, that I
am about to plunge for a chapter or two, into as
complete a labyrinth as ever historian was perplexed
withal; therefore I advise them to take fast
hold of my skirts, and keep close at my heels, venturing
neither to the right hand nor to the left,
least they get bemired in a slough of unintelligible
learning, or have their brains knocked out, by some
of those hard Greek names which will be flying

about in all directions. But should any of them
be too indolent or chicken-hearted to accompany
me in this perilous undertaking, they had better
take a short cut round, and wait for me at the beginning
of some smoother chapter.

Of the creation of the world, we have a thousand
contradictory accounts; and though a very
satisfactory one is furnished us by divine revelation,
yet every philosopher feels himself in 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 instructed.

Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages,
that the earth and the whole system of the universe,
was the deity himself;[8] a doctrine most strenuously
maintained by Zenophanes and the whole tribe
of Eleatics, as also by Strato and the sect of peripatetic
or vagabondizing philosophers. Pythagoras
likewise inculcated the famous numerical system of
the monad, dyad and triad, and by means of his
sacred quaternary elucidated the formation of the
world, the arcana of nature and the principles both
of music and morals.[9] Other sages adhered to
the mathematical system of squares and triangles;

the cube, the pyramid and the sphere; the tetrahedron,
the octahedron, the icosahedron and the dodecahedron.
[10] While others advocated the great
elementary theory, which refers the construction of
our globe and all that it contains, to the combinations
of four material elements, air, earth, fire and
water; with the assistance of a fifth, an immaterial
and vivifying principle; by which I presume
the worthy theorist meant to allude to that vivifying
spirit contained in gin, brandy, and other potent liquors,
and which has such miraculous effects, not
only on the ordinary operations of nature, but likewise
on the creative brains of certain philosophers.

Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic
system taught by old Moschus before the siege of
Troy; revived by Democritus of laughing memory;
improved by Epicurus that king of good fellows,
and modernised by the fanciful Descartes. But I
decline enquiring, whether the atoms, of which the
earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent;
whether they are animate or inanimate; whether,
agreeably to the opinion of the Atheists, they were
fortuitously aggregated, or as the Theists maintain,
were arranged by a supreme intelligence.[11] Whether
in fact the earth is an insensate clod, or whe

ther it is animated by a soul;[12] which opinion was
strenuously maintained by a host of philosophers,
at the head of whom stands the great Plato, that
temperate sage, who threw the cold water of philosophy
on the form of sexual intercourse, and inculcated
the doctrine of Platonic affection, or the
art of making love without making children.—An
exquisitely refined intercourse, but much better
adapted to the ideal inhabitants of his imaginary
island of Atlantis, than to the sturdy race, composed
of rebellious flesh and blood, who populate the little
matter of fact island which we inhabit.

Besides these systems, we have moreover the
poetical theogeny of old Hesiod, who generated the
whole Universe in the regular mode of procreation,
and the plausible opinion of others, that the earth
was hatched from the great egg of night, which
floated in chaos, and was cracked by the horns of
the celestial bull. To illustrate this last doctrine,
Bishop Burnet in his Theory of the Earth,[13] 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 miraculous resemblance
to that of a goose! Such of my readers as take

a proper interest in the origin of this our planet, will
be pleased to learn, that the most profound sages
of antiquity, among the Egyptians, Chaldeans,
Persians, Greeks and Latins, have alternately assisted
at the hatching of this strange bird, and that
their cacklings have been caught, and continued in
different tones and inflections, from philosopher to
philosopher, unto the present day.

But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems
of ancient sages, let me not pass over with
neglect, those of other philosophers; which though
less universal and renowned, have equal claims to
attention, and equal chance for correctness. Thus
it is recorded by the Brahmins, in the pages of their
inspired Shastah, that the angel Bistnoo transforming
himself into a great boar, plunged into the
watery abyss, and brought up the earth on his tusks.
Then issued from him a mighty tortoise, and a
mighty snake; and Bistnoo placed the snake erect
upon the back of the tortoise, and he placed the
earth upon the head of the snake.[14]

The negro philosophers of Congo affirm, that
the world was made by the hands of angels, excepting
their own country, which the Supreme Being
constructed himself, that it might be supremely
excellent. And he took great pains with the inhabitants,
and made them very black, and beautiful:

and when he had finished the first man, he was well
pleased with him, and smoothed him over the face,
and hence his nose and the nose of all his descendants
became flat.

The Mohawk Philosophers tell us that a pregnant
woman fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise
took her upon its back, because every place
was covered with water; and that the woman sitting
upon the tortoise paddled with her hands in
the water, and raked up the earth, whence it finally
happened that the earth became higher than the
water.[15]

Beside these and many other equally sage opinions,
we have likewise the profound conjectures of
Aboul-Hassan-Aly,[16] son of Al Khan, son of Aly,
son of Abderrahman, son of Abdallah, son of Masoud-el-Hadheli,
who is commonly called Masoudi,
and surnamed Cothbeddin, but who takes the humble
title of Laheb-ar-rasoul, which means the companion
of the ambassador of God. He has written
an universal history entitled “Mouroudge-ed-dhahrab,
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 moment of writing; which was, under the Khaliphat
of Mothi Billah, in the month Dgioumadi-elaoual

of the 336th year of the Hegira or flight of
the Prophet. He informs us that the earth is a
huge bird, Mecca and Medina constituting the head,
Persia and India the right wing, the land of Gog
the left wing, and Africa the tail. He informs us
moreover, than an earth has existed before the present,
(which he considers as a mere chicken of 7000
years) that it has undergone divers deluges, and
that, according to the opinion of some well informed
Brahmins of his acquaintance, it will be renovated
every seventy thousandth hazarouam; each
hazarouam consisting of 12,000 years.

But I forbear to quote a host more of these ancient
and outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable
ignorance, in despite of all their erudition, compelled
them to write in languages which but few of my
readers can understand; and I shall proceed briefly
to notice a few more intelligible and fashionable
theories of their modern successors.

And first I shall mention the great Buffon, who
conjectures that this globe was originally a globe of
liquid fire, scintillated from the body of the sun,
by the percussion of a comet, as a spark is generated
by the collision of flint and steel. That at first
it was surrounded by gross vapours, which cooling
and condensing in process of time, constituted, according
to their densities, earth, water and air;
which gradually arranged themselves, according to

their respective gravities, round the burning or vitrified
mass, that formed their centre, &c.

Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters
at first were universally paramount; and he terrifies
himself with the idea that the earth must be
eventually washed away, by the force of rain, rivers
and mountain torrents, untill it is confounded with
the ocean, or in other words, absolutely dissolves
into itself.—Sublime idea! far surpassing that of the
tender-hearted damsel of antiquity who wept herself
into a fountain; or the good dame of Narbonne
in France, who for a volubility of tongue unusual
in her sex, was doomed to peel five hundred thousand
and thirty-nine ropes of onions, and actually
ran 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 stanza as fragrant as an Edinburgh
nosegay) has distinguished himself by a very admirable
theory respecting the earth. He conjectures
that it was originally a chaotic comet, which
being selected for the abode of man, was removed
from its excentric orbit, and whirled round the sun
in its present regular motion; by which change of
direction, order succeeded to confusion in the arrangement
of its component parts. The philosopher
adds, that the deluge was produced by an un

courteous salute from the watery tail of another
comet; doubtless through sheer envy of its improved
condition; thus furnishing a melancholy proof that
jealousy may prevail, even among the heavenly
bodies, and discord interrupt that celestial harmony
of the spheres, so melodiously sung by the poets.

But I pass over a variety of excellent theories,
among which are those of Burnet, and Woodward,
and Whitehurst; regretting extremely that my time
will not suffer me to give them the notice they deserve—And
shall conclude with that of the renowed
Dr. Darwin, which I have reserved to the
last for the sake of going off with a report. This
learned Theban, who is as much distinguished for
rhyme as reason, and for good natured credulity as
serious research, and who has recommended himself
wonderfully to the good graces of the ladies, by
letting them into all the gallantries, amours, debaucheries,
and other topics of scandal of the court
of Flora; has fallen upon a theory worthy of his
combustible imagination. According to his opinion,
the huge mass of chaos took a sudden occasion to
explode, like a barrel of gunpowder, and in that act
exploded the sun—which in its flight by a similar explosion
expelled the earth—which in like guise exploded
the moon—and thus by a concatenation of
explosions, the whole solar system was produced,
and set most systematically in motion![17]

By the great variety of theories here alluded to,
every one of which, if thoroughly examined, will
be found surprisingly consistent in all its parts; my
unlearned readers will perhaps be led to conclude,
that the creation of a world is not so difficult a task
as they at first imagined. I have shewn at least a
score of ingenious methods in which a world could
be constructed; and I have no doubt, that had any
of the Philo's above quoted, the use of a good
manageable comet, and the philosophical ware-house
chaos at his command, he would engage, by the aid
of philosophy to manufacture a planet as good, or
if you would take his word for it, better than this
we inhabit.

And here I cannot help noticing the kindness
of Providence, in creating comets for the great relief
of bewildered philosophers. By their assistance
more sudden evolutions and transitions are affected
in the system of nature, than are wrought in a pantomimic
exhibition, by the wonder-working sword
of Harlequin. Should one of our modern sages,
in his theoretical flights among the stars, ever find
himself lost in the clouds, and in danger of tumbling
into the abyss of nonsense and absurdity, he has but
to seize a comet by the beard, mount astride of its
tail, and away he gallops in triumph, like an enchanter
on his hyppogriff, or a Connecticut witch on
her broomstick, “to sweep the cobwebs out of the
sky.”

It is an old and vulgar saying, about a “beggar
on horse back,” which I would not for the world
have applied to our most reverend philosophers;
but I must confess, that some of them, when they
are mounted on one of these fiery steeds, are as
wild in their curvettings as was Phæton of yore,
when he aspired to manage the chariot of Phœbus.
One drives his comet at full speed against the sun,
and knocks the world out of him with the mighty
concussion; another more moderate, makes his
comet a kind of beast of burden, carrying the sun
a regular supply of food and faggots—a third, of
more combustible disposition, threatens to throw
his comet, like a bombshell into the world, and
blow it up like a powder magazine; while a fourth,
with no great delicacy to this respectable planet,
and its inhabitants, insinuates that some day or
other, his comet—my modest pen blushes while I
write it—shall absolutely turn tail upon our world
and deluge it with water!—Surely as I have already
observed, comets were bountifully provided by
Providence for the benefit of philosophers, to assist
them in manufacturing theories.

When a man once doffs the straight waistcoat
of common sense, and trusts merely to his imagination,
it is astonishing how rapidly he gets forward.
Plodding souls, like myself, who jog along on the
two legs nature has given them, are sadly put to it
to clamber over the rocks and hills, to toil through

the mud and mire, and to remove the continual obstructions,
that abound in the path of science. But
your adventurous philosopher launches his theory
like a balloon, and having inflated it with the smoke
and vapours of his own heated imagination, mounts
it in triumph, and soars away to his congenial regions
in the moon. Every age has furnished its
quota of these adventurers in the realms of fancy,
who voyage among the clouds for a season and are
stared at and admired, until some envious rival assails
their air blown pageant, shatters its crazy
texture, lets out the smoke, and tumbles the adventurer
and his theory into the mud. Thus one
race of philosophers 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.
Such are the grave eccentricities of genius, and 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 fantastic vagaries with the name
of wisdom!—surely old Socrates was right in his
opinion that philosophers are but a soberer sort of
madmen, busying themselves in things which are
totally incomprehensible, or which, if they could
be comprehended, would be found not worth the
trouble of discovery.

And now, having adduced several of the most
important theories that occur to my recollection,
I leave my readers at full liberty to choose among
them. They are all the serious speculations of
learned men—all differ essentially from each
other—and all have the same title to belief. For
my part, (as I hate an embarrassment of choice)
until the learned have come to an agreement among
themselves, I shall content myself with the account
handed us down by the good old 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 us, may be
cautiously admitted as additional testimony) it appears
I say, and I make the assertion deliberately,
without fear of contradiction, that this globe really
was created, and that it is composed of land and
water. It further appears that it is curiously divided
and parcelled out into continents and islands, among
which I boldly declare the renowned Island of
New York, will be found, by any one who seeks
for it in its proper place.

Thus it will be perceived, that like an experienced
historian I confine myself to such points as are
absolutely essential to my subject—building up my
work, after the manner of the able architect who
erected our theatre; beginning with the foundation,
then the body, then the roof, and at last perching
our snug little island like the little cupola on the
top. Having dropt upon this simile by chance I
shall make a moment's further use of it, to illustrate
the correctness of my plan. Had not the foundation,
the body, and the roof of the theatre first
been built, the cupola could not have had existence
as a cupola—it might have been a centry-box—or
a watchman's box—or it might have been placed in
the rear of the Manager's house and have formed—
a temple;—but it could never have been considered a
cupola. As therefore the building of the theatre
was necessary to the existence of the cupola, as a
cupola—so the formation of the globe and its internal
construction, were first necessary to the existence
of this island, as an island—and thus the necessity
and importance of this part of my history, which
in a manner is no part of my history, is logically
proved.

3. CHAP. III.

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 Titans,
Methodius gives him a son called Jonithus, or Jonicus,
(who was the first inventor of Johnny cakes,)
and others have mentioned a son, named Thuiscon,
from whom descended the Teutons or Teutonic, or
in other words, the Dutch nation.

I regret exceedingly that the nature of my plan
will not permit me to gratify the laudable curiosity
of my readers, by investigating minutely the history
of the great Noah. Indeed such an undertaking
would be attended with more trouble than many
people would imagine; for the good old patriarch
seems to have been a great traveller in his day, and
to have passed under a different name in every
country that he visited. The Chaldeans for instance
give us his story, merely altering his name into
Xisuthrus—a trivial alteration, which to an historian

skilled in etymologies, will appear wholly unimportant.
It appears likewise, that he had exchanged
his tarpawlin and quadrant among the Chaldeans,
for the gorgeous insignia of royalty, and appears as
a monarch in their annals. The Egyptians celebrate
him under the name of Osiris; the Indians as
Menu; the Greek and Roman writers confound
him with Ogyges, and the Theban with Deucalion
and Saturn. But the Chinese, who deservedly rank
among the most extensive and authentic historians,
inasmuch as they have known the world ever since
some millions of years before it was created, declare
that Noah was no other than Fohi, a worthy gentleman,
descended from an ancient and respectable
family of Hong merchants, that flourished in the
middle ages of the empire. What gives this assertion
some air of credibility is, that it is a fact, admitted
by the most enlightened literati, that Noah
travelled into China, at the time of the building of
the Tower of Babel (probably to improve himself
in the study of languages) and the learned Dr.
Shackford gives us the additional information, that
the ark rested upon a mountain on the frontiers of
China.

From this mass of rational conjectures and sage
hypotheses, many satisfactory deductions might be
drawn; but I shall content myself with the unquestionable
fact stated in the Bible, that Noah begat
three sons—Shem, Ham, and Japhet.

It may be asked by some inquisitive readers,
not much conversant with the art of history writing,
what have Noah and his sons to do with the subject
of this work? Now though, in strict justice, I am
not bound to satisfy such querulous spirits, yet as
I have determined to accommodate my book to
every capacity, so that it shall not only delight the
learned, but likewise instruct the simple, and edify
the vulgar; I shall never hesitate for a moment to
explain any matter that may appear obscure.

Noah we are told by sundry very credible historians,
becoming sole surviving heir and proprietor
of the earth, in fee simple, after the deluge, like a
good father portioned out his estate among his
children. To Shem he gave Asia, to Ham, Africa,
and to Japhet, Europe. Now it is a thousand times
to be lamented that he had but three sons, for had
there been a fourth, he would doubtless have inherited
America; which of course would have been
dragged forth from its obscurity on the occasion;
and thus many a hard working historian and philosopher,
would have been spared a prodigious mass
of weary conjecture, respecting the first discovery
and population of this country. Noah, however,
having provided for his three sons, looked in all probability,
upon our country as mere wild unsettled
land, and said nothing about it, and to this unpardonable
taciturnity of the patriarch may we ascribe

the misfortune, that America did not come into the
world, as early as the other quarters of the globe.

It is true some writers have vindicated him
from this misconduct towards posterity, and asserted
that he really did discover America. Thus it
was the opinion of Mark Lescarbot, a French
writer possessed of that ponderosity of thought, and
profoundness of reflection, so peculiar to his nation,
that the immediate descendants of Noah peopled
this quarter of the globe, and that the old patriarch
himself, who still retained a passion for the sea-faring
life, superintended the transmigration. The
pious and enlightened father Charlevoix, a French
Jesuit, remarkable for his veracity and an aversion
to the marvellous, common to all great travellers,
is conclusively of the same opinion; nay, he goes
still further, 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 believe, that Noah and his immediate
descendants knew less than we do, and that the
builder and pilot of the greatest ship that ever was,
a ship which was formed to traverse an unbounded

ocean, and had so many shoals and quicksands to
guard against, should be ignorant of, or should not
have communicated to his descendants the art of
sailing on the ocean?” Therefore they did sail on
the ocean—therefore they sailed to America—therefore
America was discovered by Noah!

Now all this exquisite chain of reasoning, which
is so strikingly characteristic of the good father,
being addressed to the faith, rather than the understanding,
is flatly opposed by Hans De Laet,
who declares it a real and most ridiculous paradox,
to suppose that Noah ever entertained the thought
of discovering America; and as Hans is a Dutch
writer, I am inclined to believe he must have been
much better acquainted with the worthy crew of
the ark than his competitors, and of course possessed
of more accurate sources of information. It is
astonishing how intimate historians daily become
with the patriarchs and other great men of antiquity.
As intimacy improves with time, and as the learned
are particularly inquisitive and familiar in their
acquaintance with the ancients, I should not be
surprised, if some future writers should gravely
give us a picture of men and manners as they existed
before the flood, far more copious and accurate
than the Bible; and that, in the course of another
century, the log book of old Noah should be as
current among historians, as the voyages of Captain
Cook, or the renowned history of Robinson Crusoe.

I shall not occupy my time by discussing the
huge mass of additional suppositions, conjectures
and probabilities respecting the first discovery of
this country, with which unhappy historians overload
themselves, in their 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 burthen, 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 enquire, whether
America was first discovered by a wandering vessel
of that celebrated Phœnecian fleet, which, according
to Herodotus, circumnavigated Africa; or
by that Carthagenian expedition, which Pliny, the
naturalist, informs us, discovered the Canary Islands;
or whether it was settled by a temporary
colony from Tyre, as hinted by Aristotle and Seneca.
I shall neither enquire 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 Sçavans of the learned city of Philadelphia.

Nor shall I investigate the more modern claims
of the Welsh, founded on the voyage of Prince
Madoc in the eleventh century, who having never
returned, it has since been wisely concluded that
he must have gone to America, and that for a plain
reason—if he did not go there, where else could he
have gone?—a question which most Socratically
shuts out all further dispute.

Laying aside, therefore, all the conjectures
above mentioned, with a multitude of others, equally
satisfactory, I shall take for granted, the vulgar
opinion that America was discovered on the 12th
of October, 1492, by Christovallo Colon, a Genoese,
who has been clumsily nick-named Columbus,
but for what reason I cannot discern. Of the voyages
and adventures of this Colon, I shall say nothing,
seeing that they are already sufficiently
known. Nor shall I undertake to prove that this
country should have been called Colonia, after his
name, that being notoriously self evident.

Having thus happily got my readers on this side
of the Atlantic, I picture them to myself, all impatience
to enter upon the enjoyment of the land of
promise, and in full expectation that I will immediately
deliver it into their possession. But if I
do, may I ever forfeit the reputation of a regular
bred historian. No—no—most curious and thrice
learned readers, (for thrice learned ye are if ye
have read all that goes before, and nine times

learned shall ye be, if ye read all that comes after)
we have yet a world of work before us. Think
you the first discoverers of this fair quarter of the
globe, had nothing to do but go on shore and find
a country ready laid out and cultivated like a garden,
wherein they might revel at their ease? No
such thing—they had forests to cut down, underwood
to grub up, marshes to drain, and savages to
exterminate.

In like manner, I have sundry doubts to clear
away, questions to resolve, and paradoxes to explain,
before I permit you to range at random;
but these difficulties, once overcome, we shall be
enabled to jog on right merrily through the rest of
our history. Thus my work shall, in a manner,
echo the nature of the subject, in the same manner
as the sound of poetry has been found by certain
shrewd critics, to echo the sense—this being an
improvement in history, which I claim the merit
of having invented.

4. CHAP. IV.

Bless us!—what a hard life we historians have
of it, who undertake to satisfy the doubts of the
world!—Here have I been toiling and moiling
through three pestiferous chapters, and my readers
toiling and moiling at my heels; up early and to
bed late, poring over worm-eaten, obsolete, good-for-nothing
books, and cultivating the acquaintance
of a thousand learned authors, both ancient and
modern, who, to tell the honest truth, are the stupidest
companions in the world—and after all,
what have we got by it?—Truly the mighty valuable
conclusion, that this country does actually exist,
and has been discovered; a self-evident fact
not worth a hap'worth of gingerbread. And what
is worse, we seem just as far off from the city of
New York now, as we were at first. Now for myself,
I would not care the value of a brass button,
being used to this dull and learned company; but
I feel for my unhappy readers, who seem most
woefully jaded and fatigued.

Still, however, we have formidable difficulties
to encounter, since it yet remains, if possible, to
shew how this country was originally peopled—
a point fruitful of incredible embarrassment, to us
scrupulous historians, but absolutely indispensable
to our works. For unless we prove that the Aborigines
did absolutely come from some where, 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 must syllogistically
prove fatal to the innumerable Aborigines of this
populous region.

To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from
logical annihilation so many millions of fellow creatures,
how many wings of geese have been plundered!
what oceans of ink have been benevolently
drained! and how many capacious heads of learned
historians have been addled and forever confounded!
I pause with reverential awe, when I
contemplate the ponderous tomes in different languages,
with which they have endeavoured to solve
this question, so important to the happiness of society,
but so involved in clouds of impenetrable
obscurity. Historian after historian has engaged
in the endless circle of hypothetical argument, and
after leading us a weary chace 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
chace 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 come my lusty readers, let us address ourselves
to our task and fall vigorously to work upon
the remaining rubbish that lies in our way; but I
warrant, had master Hercules, in addition to his
seven labours, been given as an eighth to write a
genuine American history, he would have been
fain to abandon the undertaking, before he got over
the threshold of his work.

Of the claims of the children of Noah to the
original population of this country I shall say
nothing, as they have already been touched upon
in my last chapter. The claimants next in celebrity,
are the decendants 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 a host of profound
writers, ready to swear to its correctness, and to
bring in their usual load of authorities, and wise
surmises, wherewithal to prop it up. Vetablus and
Robertus Stephens declared nothing could be more
clear—Arius Montanus without the least hesitation
asserts that Mexico was the true Ophir, and
the Jews the early settlers of the country. While
Possevin, Becan, and a host of other sagacious
writers, lug in a supposed prophecy of the fourth
book of Esdras, which being inserted in the mighty
hypothesis, like the key stone of an arch, gives it,
in their opinion, perpetual durability.

Scarce however, have they completed their
goodly superstructure, than in trudges a phalanx of
opposite authors, with Hans de Laet the great
Dutchman at their head, and at one blow, tumbles
the whole fabric about their ears. Hans in fact,
contradicts outright all the Israelitish claims to the
first settlement of this country, attributing all those
equivocal symptoms, and traces of Christianity and
Judaism, which have been said to be found in divers
provinces of the new world, to the Devil, who

has always affected to counterfeit the worship of
the true Deity. “A remark,” says the knowing
old Padre d'Acosta, “made by all good authors
who have spoken of the religion of nations newly
discovered, and founded besides on the authority
of the fathers of the church.”

Some writers again, among whom it is with
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 colonyfrom China—Manco or Mungo Capac,
the first Incas, being himself a Chinese. Nor shall
I more than barely mention that father Kircher,
ascribes the settlement of America to the Egyptians,
Budbeck to the Scandinavians, Charron to the
Gauls, Juffredus Petri to a skaiting party from
Friesland, Milius to the Celtæ, 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
Laet, that England, Ireland and the Orcades may
contend 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 comprizes the visionary
island of Atlantis, described by Plato. Neither
will I stop to investigate the heathenish assertion of
Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the globe was
originally furnished with an Adam and Eve. Or
the more flattering opinion of Dr. Romayne supported
by many nameless authorities, that Adam
was of the Indian race—or the startling conjecture
of Buffon, Helvetius, and Darwin, so highly honourable
to mankind, and peculiarly complimentary
to the French nation, that the whole human species
are accidentally descended from a remarkable family
of monkies!

This last conjecture, I must own, came upon
me very suddenly and very ungraciously. I have
often beheld the clown in a pantomime, while gazing
in stupid wonder at the extravagant gambols
of a harlequin, all at once electrified by a sudden
stroke of the wooden sword across his shoulders.
Little did I think at such times, that it would ever
fall to my lot to be treated with equal discourtesy,

and that while I was quietly beholding these grave
philosophers, emulating the excentric transformations
of the parti-coloured hero of pantomime, they
would on a sudden turn upon me and my readers,
and with one flourish of their conjectural wand,
metamorphose us into beasts! I determined from
that moment not to burn my fingers with any more
of their theories, but content myself with detailing
the different methods by which they transported the
descendants of these ancient and respectable monkeys,
to this great field of theoretical warfare.

This was done either by migrations by land or
transmigrations by water. Thus Padre Joseph D'
Acosta enumerates three passages by land, first by
the north of Europe, secondly by the north of Asia
and thirdly by regions southward of the straits of Magellan.
The learned Grotius marches his Norwegians
by a pleasant route across frozen rivers and
arms of the sea, through Iceland, Greenland, Estotiland
and Naremberga. And various writers,
among whom are Angleria, De Hornn and Buffon,
anxious for the acommodation of these travellers,
have fastened the two continents together by a
strong chain of deductions—by which means they
could pass over dry shod. But should even this
fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old gentleman, who
compiles books and manufactures Geographies, and
who erst flung away his wig and cane, frolicked
like a naughty boy, and committed a thousand

etourderies, among the petites filles of Paris[18] —
he I say, has constructed a natural bridge of ice,
from continent to continent, at the distance of four
or five miles from Behring's straits—for which he
is entitled to the grateful thanks of all the wandering
aborigines who ever did, or ever will pass over
it.

It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of
the worthy writers above quoted, could ever commence
his work, without immediately declaring hostilities
against every writer who had treated of the
same subject. In this particular, authors may be
compared to a certain sagacious bird, which in building
its nest, is sure to pull to pieces the nests of all
the birds in its 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. But this literary animosity is almost unconquerable.
Even I, who am of all men the most
candid and liberal, when I sat down to write this
authentic history, did all at once conceive an absolute,
bitter and unutterable contempt, a strange and
unimaginable disbelief, a wondrous and most ineffable
scoffing of the spirit, for the theories of the numerous

literati, who have treated before me, of this
country. I called them jolter heads, numsculls,
dunderpates, dom cops, bottericks, domme jordans,
and a thousand other equally indignant appellations.
But when I came to consider the matter coolly and
dispassionately, my opinion was altogether changed.
When I beheld these sages gravely accounting for
unaccountable things, and discoursing thus wisely
about matters forever hidden from their eyes, like
a blind man describing the glories of light, and the
beauty and harmony of colours, I fell back in astonishment
at the amazing extent of human ingenuity.

If—cried I to myself, these learned men can weave
whole systems out of nothing, what would be their
productions were they furnished with substantial
materials—if they can argue and dispute thus ingeniously
about subjects beyond their knowledge,
what would be the profundity of their observations,
did they but know what they were talking about!
Should old Radamanthus, when he comes to decide
upon their conduct while on earth, have the least
idea of the usefulness of their labours, he will undoubtedly
class them with those notorious wise men
of Gotham, who milked a bull, twisted a rope of
sand, and wove a velvet purse from a sow's ear.

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 cruize about the northern oceans—
or that they were conveyed here by balloons, as modern
æreconauts pass from Dover to Calais—or by witchcraft,
as Simon Magus posted among the stars—or
after the manner of the renowned Scythian Abaris,
who like the New England witches on full-blooded
broomsticks, made most unheard of journeys on
the back of a golden arrow, given him by the Hyperborean
Apollo.

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 Holland, the profound
father Charlevoix observes, “in fine, all these
countries are peopled, and it is possible, some have
been so by accident. Now if it could have happened
in that manner, why might it not have been at the
same time, and by the same means, with the other parts
of the globe?” This ingenious mode of deducing
certain conclusions from possible premises, is an improvement
in syllogistic skill, and proves the good
father superior even to Archimedes, for he can turn
the world without any thing to rest his lever upon.
It is only surpassed by the dexterity with which the
sturdy old Jesuit, in another place, demolishes the
gordian knot—“Nothing” says he, “is more easy.
The inhabitants of both hemispheres are certainly the
descendants of the same father. The common father

of mankind, received an express order from Heaven,
to people the world, and accordingly it has been
peopled. To bring this about, it was necessary to
overcome all difficulties in the way, and they have
also been overcome!” Pious Logician! How does
he put all the herd of laborious theorists to the
blush, by explaining in fair words, what it has cost
them volumes to prove they knew nothing about!

They have long been picking at the lock, and
fretting at the latch, but the honest father at once
unlocks the door by bursting it open, and when he
has it once a-jar, he is at full liberty to pour in as
many nations as he pleases. This proves to a demonstration
that a little piety is better than a cartload
of philosophy, and is a practical illustration of
that scriptural promise—“By faith ye shall move
mountains.”

From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety
of others which I have consulted, but which
are omitted through fear of fatiguing the unlearned
reader—I can only draw the following conclusions,
which luckily however, are sufficient for my purpose—
First, That this part of the world has actually been
peopled (Q. E. D.) to support which, we have living
proofs in the numerous tribes of Indians that inhabit
it. Secondly, That it has been peopled in five
hundred different ways, as proved by a cloud of authors,
who from the positiveness of their assertions
seem to have been eye witnesses to the fact—

Thirdly, That the people of this country had a variety
of fathers, which as it may not be thought
much to their credit by the common run of readers,
the less we say on the subject the better. The question
therefore, I trust, is forever at rest.

5. CHAP. V.

The writer of a history may, in some respects,
be likened unto an adventurous knight, who having
undertaken a perilous enterprize, by way of establishing
his fame, feels bound in honour and chivalry,
to turn back for no difficulty nor hardship,
and never to shrink or quail whatever enemy he
may encounter. Under this impression, I resolutely
draw my pen and fall to, with might and
main, at those doughty questions and subtle paradoxes,
which, like fiery dragons and bloody giants,
beset the entrance to my history, and would fain
repulse me from the very threshold. And at this
moment a gigantic question has started up, which
I must take by the beard and utterly subdue, before
I can advance another step in my historick undertaking—but
I trust this will be the last adversary I
shall have to contend with, and that in the next
book, I shall be enabled to conduct my readers in
triumph into the body of my work.

The question which has thus suddenly arisen,
is, what right had the first discoverers of America

to land, and take possession of a country, without
asking the consent of its inhabitants, or yielding
them an adequate compensation for their territory?

My readers shall now see with astonishment,
how easily I will vanquish this gigantic doubt,
which has so long been the terror of adventurous
writers; which has withstood so many fierce assaults,
and has given such great distress of mind to
multitudes of kind-hearted folks. For, until this
mighty question is totally put to rest, the worthy
people of America can by no means enjoy the soil
they inhabit, with clear right and title, and quiet,
unsullied consciences.

The first source of right, by which property is
acquired in a country, is DISCOVERY. For as all
mankind have an equal right to 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.[19]

This proposition being admitted, it follows
clearly, that the Europeans who first visited America,
were the real discoverers of the same; nothing
being necessary to the establishment of this fact,
but simply to prove that it was totally uninhabited
by 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 unintelligible
sounds, very much like language, in short,
had a marvellous resemblance to human beings.
But the host of zealous and enlightened fathers,
who accompanied the discoverers, for the purpose
of promoting the kingdom of heaven, by establishing
fat monasteries and bishopricks 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—a description of vagrants, that
since the times of Gog, Magog and Goliath, have
been considered as outlaws, and have received no
quarter in either history, chivalry or song; indeed,
even the philosopher Bacon, declared the Americans
to be people proscribed by the laws of nature,
inasmuch as they had a barbarous custom of sacrificing
men, and feeding upon man's flesh.

Nor are these all the proofs of their utter barbarism:
among many other writers of discernment,
the celebrated Ulloa tells us “their imbecility is so

visible, that one can hardly form an idea of them
different from what one has of the brutes. Nothing
disturbs the tranquillity of their souls, equally insensible
to disasters, and to prosperity. Though half
naked, they are as contented as a monarch in his
most splendid array. Fear makes no impression
on them, and respect as little.”—All this is furthermore
supported by the authority of M. Bouguer.
“It is not easy,” says he, “to describe the
degree of their indifference for wealth and all its
advantages. One does not well know what motives
to propose to them when one would persuade
them to any service. It is vain to offer them money,
they answer 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, than 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 developement of reason is not completed.”

Now all these peculiarities, though 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, “is the colour of the
Devil!” Therefore so far from being able to own
property, they had no right even to personal freedom,
for liberty is too radiant a deity, to inhabit
such gloomy temples. All which circumstances
plainly convinced the righteous followers of Cortes
and Pizarro, that these miscreants had no title to
the soil that they infested—that they were a perverse,
illiterate, dumb, beardless, bare-bottomed
black-seed—mere wild beasts of the forests, and like
them should either be subdued or exterminated.

From the foregoing arguments therefore, and a

host of others equally conclusive, which I forbear
to enumerate, it was 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 trans-atlantic
visitors acquired an incontrovertable property therein,
by the right of Discovery.

This right being fully established, we now
come to the next, which is the right acquired by
cultivation. “The cultivation of the soil” we are
told “is an obligation imposed by nature on man
“kind. The whole world is appointed for the
“nourishment of its inhabitants; but it would be
“incapable of doing it, was it uncultivated. Every
“nation is then obliged by the law of nature to
“cultivate the ground that has fallen to its share.
“Those people like the ancient Germans and mo
“dern Tartars, who having fertile countries, disdain
“to cultivate the earth, and choose to live by rapine,
“are wanting to themselves, and deserve to be ex
“terminated as savage and pernicious beasts.”[20]

Now it is notorious, that the savages knew nothing
of agriculture, when first discovered by the
Europeans, but lived a most vagabond, disorderly,
unrighteous life,—rambling from place to place, and
prodigally rioting upon the spontaneous luxuries of
nature, without tasking her generosity to yield

them any thing more; whereas it has been most
unquestionably shewn, that heaven intended the
earth should be ploughed and sown, and manured,
and laid out into cities and towns and farms, and
country seats, and pleasure grounds, and public
gardens, all which the Indians knew nothing about
—therefore they did not improve the talents providence
had bestowed on them—therefore they
were careless stewards—therefore they had no
right to the soil—therefore they deserved to be exterminated.

It is true the savages might plead that they
drew all the benefits from the land which their simple
wants required—they found plenty of game to
hunt, which together with the roots and uncultivated
fruits of the earth, furnished a sufficient variety
for their frugal table;—and that as heaven merely
designed the earth to form the abode, and satisfy
the wants of man; so long as those purposes were
answered, the will of heaven was accomplished.—
But this only proves how undeserving they were
of the blessings around them—they were so much
the more savages, for not having more wants; for
knowledge is in some degree an increase of desires,
and it is this superiority both in the number and
magnitude of his desires, that distinguishes the
man from the beast. Therefore the Indians, in
not having more wants, were very unreasonable
animals; and it was but just that they should make

way for the Europeans, who had a thousand wants
to their one, and therefore would turn the earth to
more account, and by cultivating it, more truly
fulfil the will of heaven. Besides—Grotius and
Lauterbach, and Puffendorff and Titius and a
host of wise men besides, who have considered the
matter properly, have determined, that the property
of a country cannot be acquired by hunting, cutting
wood, or drawing water in it—nothing but
precise demarcation of limits, and the intention of
cultivation, can establish the possession. Now as
the savages (probably from never having read the
authors above quoted) had never complied with
any of these necessary forms, it plainly follows
that they had no right to the soil, but that it was
completely at the disposal of the first comers, who
had more knowledge and more wants than themselves—who
would portion out the soil, with churlish
boundaries; who would torture nature to pamper
a thousand fantastic humours and capricious
appetites; and who of course were far more rational
animals 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
their own property—therefore in opposing them, the
savages were invading their just rights, infringing
the immutable laws of nature and counteracting the
will of heaven—therefore they were guilty of impiety,
burglary and trespass on the case,—therefore
they were hardened offenders against God and
man—therefore they ought to be exterminated.

But a more irresistible right then either that I
have mentioned, and one which will be the most
readily admitted by my reader, provided he is
blessed with bowels of charity and philanthropy, is
the right acquired by civilization. All the world
knows the lamentable state in which these poor savages
were found. Not only deficient in the comforts
of life, but what is still worse, most piteously
and unfortunately blind to the miseries of their situation.
But no sooner did the benevolent inhabitants
of Europe behold their sad condition than they
immediately went to work to ameliorate and improve
it. They introduced among them the comforts of life,
consisting of rum, gin and brandy—and it is astonishing
to read how soon the poor savages learnt to estimate
these blessings—they likewise made known
to them a thousand remedies, by which the most
inveterate diseases are alleviated and healed, and
that they might comprehend the benefits and enjoy
the comforts of these medicines, they previously
introduced among them the diseases, which they
were calculated to cure. By these and a variety of
other methods was the condition of these poor savages,
wonderfully improved; they acquired a
thousand wants, of which they had before been ignorant,
and as he has most sources of happiness,

who has most wants to be gratified, they were
doubtlessly rendered a much happier race of beings.

But the most important branch of civilization,
and which has most strenuously been extolled,
by the zealous and pious fathers of the Roman
Church, is the introduction of the Christian faith.
It was truly a sight that might well inspire horror,
to behold these savages, stumbling among the dark
mountains of paganism, and guilty of the most horrible
ignorance of religion. It is true, they neither
stole nor defrauded, they were sober, frugal, continent,
and faithful to their word; but though they
acted right habitually, it was all in vain, unless they
acted so from precept. The new comers therefore
used every method, to induce them to embrace and
practice the true religion—except that of setting
them the example.

But notwithstanding all these complicated labours
for their good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy
of these stubborn wretches, that they ungratefully
refused, to acknowledge the strangers as
their benefactors, and persisted in disbelieving the
doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate; most insolently
alledging, that from their conduct, the advocates
of Christianity did not seem to believe in it themselves.
Was not this too much forhum an patience?
—would not one suppose, that the foreign emigrants
from Europe, provoked at their incredulity and
discouraged by their stiff-necked obstinacy, would

forever have abandoned their shores, and consigned
them to their original ignorance and misery?—But
no—so zealous were they to effect the temporal
comfort and eternal salvation of these pagan infidels,
that they even proceeded from the milder
means of persuasion, to the more painful and troublesome
one of persecution—Let loose among
them, whole troops of fiery monks and furious
blood-hounds—purified them by fire and sword,
by stake and faggot; in consequence of which indefatigable
measures, the cause of Christian love
and charity were so rapidly advanced, that in a very
few years, not one fifth of the number of unbelievers
existed in South America, that were found there at
the time of its discovery.

Nor did the other methods of civilization remain
uninforced. The Indians improved daily and wonderfully
by their intercourse with the whites. They
took to drinking rum, and making bargains. They
learned to cheat, to lie, to swear, to gamble, to
quarrel, to cut each others throats, in short, to excel
in all the accomplishments that had originally
marked the superiority of their Christian visitors.
And such a surprising aptitude have they shewn for
these acquirements, that there is very little doubt
that in a century more, provided they survive so
long, the irrisistible effects of civilization; they
will equal in knowledge, refinement, knavery, and

debauchery, the most enlightened, civilized and
orthodox nations of Europe.

What stronger right need the European settlers
advance to the country than this. Have not whole
nations of uninformed savages been made acquainted
with a thousand imperious wants and indispensible
comforts of which they were before wholly
ignorant—Have they not been literally hunted and
smoked out of the dens and lurking places of ignorance
and infidelity, and absolutely scourged into
the right path. Have not the temporal things, the
vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, which
were too apt to engage their worldly and selfish
thoughts, been benevolently taken from them; and
have they not in lieu thereof, been taught to set
their affections on things above—And finally, to use
the words of a reverend Spanish father, in a letter
to his superior in Spain—“Can any one have the
“presumption to say, that these savage Pagans,
“have yielded any thing more than an inconsidera
“ble recompense to their benefactors; in surren
“dering to them a little pitiful tract of this dirty
“sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inhe
“ritance in the kingdom of Heaven!”

Here then are three complete and undeniable
sources of right established, any one of which was
more than ample to establish a property in the newly
discovered regions of America. Now, so it has
happened in certain parts of this delightful quarter

of the globe, that the right of discovery has been
so strenuously asserted—the influence of cultivation
so industriously extended, and the progress of
salvation and civilization so zealously prosecuted,
that, what with their attendant wars, persecutions,
oppressions, diseases, and other partial evils that
often hang on the skirts of great benefits—the savage
aborigines have, some how 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
bring all dead and buried, and no one remaining to
inherit or dispute the soil, the Spaniards as the next
immediate occupants entered upon the possession,
as clearly as the hang-man succeeds to the clothes
of the malefactor—and as they have Blackstone,[21]
and all the learned expounders of the law on their
side, they may set all actions of ejectment at defiance—and
this last right may be entitled, the RIGHT
BY EXTERMINATION, or 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
forever, his holiness Pope Alexander VI, issued
one of those mighty bulls, which bear down reason,
argument and every thing before them; by which
he generously granted the newly discovered quarter

of the globe, to the Spaniards and Portuguese; who,
thus having law and gospel on their side, and being
inflamed with great spiritual zeal, shewed the Pagan
savages neither favour nor affection, but prosecuted
the work of discovery, colonization, civilization,
and extermination, 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 likewise to the
eternal thanks of these infidel savages, for having
come so far, endured so many perils by sea and
land, and taken such unwearied pains, for no other
purpose under heaven but to improve their forlorn,
uncivilized and heathenish condition—for having
made them acquainted with the comforts of life,
such as gin, rum, brandy, and the small-pox; for
having introduced among them the light of religion,
and finally—for having hurried them out of the
world, to enjoy its reward!

But as argument is never so well understood by
us selfish mortals, as when it comes home to ourselves,
and as I am particularly anxious that this
question should be put to rest forever, I will suppose
a parallel case, by way of arousing the candid
attention of my readers.

Let us suppose then, that the inhabitants of the
moon, by astonishing advancement in science, and
by a profound insight into that ineffable 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
perfectability, as to controul the elements, and navigate
the boundless regions of space. Let us suppose
a roving crew of these soaring philosophers,
in the course of an ærial voyage of discovery among
the stars, should chance to alight upon this outlandish
planet.

And here I beg my readers will not have the
impertinence to smile, as is too frequently the fault
of volatile readers, when perusing the grave speculations
of philosophers. I am far from indulging
in any sportive vein at present, nor is the supposition
I have been making so wild as many may deem
it. It has long been a very serious and anxious question
with me, and many a time, and oft, in the course
of my overwhelming cares and contrivances for the
welfare and protection of this my native planet, have
I lain awake whole nights, debating in my mind whether
it was most probable we should first discover and
civilize the moon, or the moon discover and civilize
our globe. Neither would the prodigy of sailing
in the air and cruising among the stars be a whit
more astonishing and incomprehensible to us, than
was the European mystery of navigating floating

castles, through the world of waters, to the simple
savages. We have already discovered the art of
coasting along the ærial 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 ærial 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 very curious, profound
and unprofitable speculations; but as they
would be unimportant to my subject, I abandon
them to my reader, particularly if he is a philosopher,
as matters well worthy 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 Hypogriffs, defended
with impenetrable armour—armed with
concentrated sun beams, and provided with vast
engines, to hurl enormous moon stones: in short,
let us suppose them, if our vanity will permit the
supposition, as superior to us in knowledge, and
consequently in power, as the Europeans were to
the Indians, when they first discovered them. All
this is very possible, it is only our self-sufficiency,
that makes us think otherwise; and I warrant the

poor savages, before they had any knowledge of the
white men, armed in all the terrors of glittering
steel and tremendous gun-powder, were as perfectly
convinced that they themselves, were the
wisest, the most virtuous, powerful and perfect of
created beings, as are, at this present moment, the
lordly inhabitants of old England, the volatile populace
of France, or even the self-satisfied citizens of
this most enlightened republick.

Let us suppose, moreover, that the aerial voyagers,
finding this planet to be nothing but a howling
wilderness, inhabited by us, poor savages and wild
beasts, shall take formal possession of it, in the
name of his most gracious and philosophic excellency,
the man in the moon. Finding however,
that their numbers are incompetent to hold it in
complete subjection, on account of the ferocious
barbarity of its inhabitants; they shall take our
worthy President, the King of England, the Emperor
of Hayti, the mighty little Bonaparte, and the
great King of Bantam, and returning to their native
planet, shall carry them to court, as were the
Indian chiefs led about as spectacles in the courts
of Europe.

Then making such obeisance as the etiquette of
the court requires, they shall address the puissant
man in the moon, in, as near as I can conjecture,
the following terms:

“Most serene and mighty Potentate, whose dominions
extend as far as eye can reach, who rideth
on the Great Bear, useth the sun as a looking
glass and maintaineth unrivalled controul over
tides, madmen and sea-crabs. We thy liege subjects
have just returned from a voyage of discovery,
in the course of which we have landed and taken
possession of that obscure little scurvy planet,
which thou beholdest rolling at a distance. The
five uncouth monsters, which we have brought
into this august presence, were once very important
chiefs among their fellow savages; for the inhabitants
of the newly discovered globe are totally
destitute of the common attributes of humanity,
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 horrible whiteness—whereas all the inhabitants
of the moon are pea green!

We have moreover found these miserable savages
sunk into a state of the utmost ignorance and
depravity, every man shamelessly living with his
own wife, and rearing his own children, instead of
indulging in that community of wives, enjoined
by the law of nature, as expounded by the philosophers
of the moon. In a word they have scarcely
a gleam of true philosophy among them, but are in
fact, utter heretics, ignoramuses and barbarians.

Taking compassion therefore on the sad condition
of these sublunary wretches, we have endeavoured,
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 voracity, particularly
the females; and we have likewise endeavoured
to instil into them the precepts of lunar Philosophy.
We have insisted upon their renouncing the
contemptable shackles of religion and common
sense, and adoring the profound, omnipotent, and
all perfect energy, and the extatic, immutable, immoveable
perfection. But such was the unparalleled
obstinacy of these wretched savages, that they
persisted in cleaving to their wives and adhering to
their religion, and absolutely set at naught the sublime
doctrines of the moon—nay, among other
abominable heresies they even went so far as
blasphemously to declare, that this ineffable planet
was made of nothing more nor less than green
cheese!”

At these words, the great man in the moon (being
a very profound philosopher) shall fall into a
terrible passion, and possessing equal authority
over things that do not belong to him, as did
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 that little dirty planet, called the
carth—and that whereas it is inhabited by none but
a race of two legged animals, that carry their heads
on their shoulders instead of under their arms; cannot
talk the lunatic language; have two eyes instead
of one; are destitute of tails, and of a horrible
whiteness, instead of pea green—therefore and
for a variety of other excellent reasons—they are
considered incapable of possessing any property in
the planet they infest, and the right and title to it
are confirmed to its original discoverers.—And furthermore,
the colonists who are now about to
depart to the aforesaid planet, are authorized
and commanded to use every means to convert
these infidel savages from the darkness of Christianity,
and make them thorough and absolute
lunatics.”

In consequence of this benevolent bull, our philosophic
benefactors go to work with hearty zeal.
They sieze upon our fertile territories scourge us
from our rightful possessions, relieve us from our
wives, and when we are unreasonable enough to
complain, they will turn upon us and say—miserable
barbarians! ungrateful wretches!—have we not
come thousands of miles to improve your worthless
planet—have we not fed you with moon shine—
have we not intoxicated you with nitrous oxyde—
does not our moon give you light every night and
have you the baseness to murmur, when we claim

a pitiful return for all these benefits? But finding
that we not only persist in absolute contempt to their
reasoning and disbelief in their philosophy, but
even go so far as daringly to defend our property,
their patience shall be exhausted, and they shall
resort to their superior powers of argument—hunt
us with hypogriffs, transfix us with concentrated
sun-beams, demolish our cities with moonstones;
until having by main force, converted us to the
true faith, they shall graciously permit us to exist
in the torrid deserts of Arabia, or the frozen regions
of Lapland, there to enjoy the blessings of
civilization and the charms of lunar philosophy—
in much the same manner as the reformed and enlightened
savages of this country, are kindly suffered
to inhabit the inhospitable forests of the
north, or the impenetrable wildernesses of South
America.

Thus have I clearly proved, and I hope strikingly
illustrated, the right of the early colonists to
the possession of this country—and thus is this gigantic
question, completely knocked in the head—
so having manfully surmounted all obstacles, and
subdued all opposition, what remains but that I
should forthwith conduct my impatient and wayworn
readers, into the renowned city, which we
have so long been in a manner besieging.—But
hold, before I proceed another step, I must pause
to take breath and recover from the excessive fatigue

I have undergone, in preparing to begin this
most accurate of histories. And in this I do but
imitate the example of the celebrated Hans Von
Dunderbottom, who took a start of three miles for
the purpose of jumping over a hill, but having been
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.