University of Virginia Library

1. CHAP. I.

The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant,
furnishes a melancholy picture of the incessant cares
and vexations inseparable from government; and
may serve as a solemn warning, to all who are ambitious
of attaining the seat of power. Though crowned
with victory, enriched by conquest, and returning
in triumph to his splendid metropolis, his exultation
was checked by beholding the sad abuses that
had taken place during the short interval of his absence.

The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort,
had taken a deep draught of the intoxicating
cup of power, during the reign of William the Testy;

and though, upon the accession of Peter Stuyvesant
they felt, with a certain instinctive perception,
which mobs as well as cattle possess, that the
reins of government had passed into stronger hands,
yet could they not help fretting and chafing and
champing upon the bit, in restive silence. No
sooner, therefore, was the great Peter's back turned,
than the quid nuncs and pot-house politicians of the
city immediately broke loose, and indulged in the
most ungovernable freaks and gambols.

It seems by some strange and inscrutable fatality,
to be the destiny of most countries, and (more
especially of your enlightened republics,) always to
be governed by the most incompetent man in the
nation, so that you will scarcely find an individual
throughout the whole community, but who shall detect
to you innumerable errors in administration,
and shall convince you in the end, that had he
been at the head of affairs, matters would have gone
on a thousand times more prosperously. Strange!
that government, which seems to be so generally understood
should invariably be so erroneously administered—strange,
that the talent of legislation so
prodigally bestowed, should be denied to the only
man in the nation, to whose station it is requisite!

Thus it was in the present instance, not a man
of all the herd of pseudo politicians in New Amsterdam,
but was an oracle on topics of state, and
could have directed public affairs incomparably better

than Peter Stuyvesant. But so perverse was
the old governor in his disposition, that he would
never suffer one of the multitude of able counsellors
by whom he was surrounded, to intrude his advice
and save the country from distruction.

Scarcely therefore had he departed on his expedition
against the Swedes, than the old factions of
William Kieft's reign began to thrust their heads
above water, and to gather together in political
meetings, to discuss “the state of the nation.” At
these assemblages the busy burgomasters and their
officious schepens made a very considerable figure.
These worthy dignitaries were no longer the fat,
well fed, tranquil magistrates that presided in the
peaceful days of Wouter Van Twiller—On the contrary,
being elected by the people, they formed in
a manner, a sturdy bulwark, between the mob and
the administration. They were great candidates for
popularity, and strenuous advocates for the rights
of the rabble; resembling in disinterested zeal the
wide mouthed tribunes of ancient Rome, or those
virtuous patriots of modern days, emphatically denominated
“the friends of the people.”

Under the tuition of these profound politicians,
it is astonishing how suddenly enlightened the swinish
multitude became, in matters above their comprehensions.
Coblers, Tinkers and Taylors all at
once felt themselves inspired, like those religious
ideots, in the glorious times of monkish illumination;

and without any previous study or experience,
became instantly capable of directing all the movements
of government. Nor must I neglect to mention
a number of superannuated, wrong headed old
burghers, who had come over when boys, in the
crew of the Goede Vrouw, and were held up as infalliable
oracles by the enlightened mob. To suppose
a man who had helped to discover a country, did
not know how it ought to be governed was preposterous
in the extreme. It would have been deemed
as much a heresy, as at the present day to question
the political talents, and universal infallibility
of our old “heroes of '76”—and to doubt that he who
had fought for a government, however stupid he
might naturally be, was not competent to fill any
station under it.

But as Peter Stuyvesant had a singular inclination
to govern his province without the assistance
of his subjects, he felt highly incensed on his return
to find the factious appearance they had assumed
during his absence. His first measure therefore
was to restore perfect order, by prostrating the dignity
of the sovereign people in the dirt.

He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one
evening when the enlightened mob was gathered
together in full caucus, listening to a patriotic
speech from an inspired cobbler, the intrepid Peter,
like his great namesake of all the Russias, all at
once appeared among them with a countenance,

sufficient to petrify a mill stone. The whole meeting
was thrown in consternation—the orator seemed
to have received a paralytic stroke in the very
middle of a sublime sentence, he stood aghast with
open mouth and trembling knees, while the words
horror! tyranny! liberty! rights! taxes! death! destruction!
and a deluge of other patriotic phrases,
came roaring from his throat, before he had power
to close his lips. The shrewd Peter took no notice
of the skulking throng around him, but advancing
to the brawling bully-ruffian, and drawing out a
huge silver watch, which might have served in
times of yore as a town clock, and which is still retained
by his decendants as a family curiosity, requested
the orator to mend it, and set it going.
The orator humbly confessed it was utterly out of
his power, as he was unacquainted with the nature
of its construction. “Nay, but,” said Peter “try
your ingenuity man, you see all the springs and
wheels, and how easily the clumsiest hand may
stop it and pull it to pieces; and why should it not
be equally easy to regulate as to stop it.” The orator
declared that his trade was wholly different, he
was a poor cobbler, and had never meddled with a
watch in his life. There were men skilled in the
art, whose business it was to attend to those matters,
but for his part, he should only mar the workmanship,
and put the whole in confusion—“Why
harkee master of mine,” cried Peter, turning suddenly
upon him, with a countenance that almost
petrified the patcher of shoes into a perfect lapstone—“dost
thou pretend to meddle with the
movements of government—to regulate and correct
and patch and cobble a complicated machine, the
principles of which are above thy comprehension,
and its simplest operations too subtle for thy understanding;
when thou canst not correct a trifling
error in a common piece of mechanism, the whole
mystery of which is open to thy inspection?—Hence
with thee to the leather and stone, which are emblems
of thy head; cobble thy shoes and confine
thyself to the vocation for which heaven has fitted
thee—But,” elevating his voice until it made the
welkin ring, “if ever I catch thee, or any of thy
tribe, whether square-head, or platter breech, meddling
with affairs of government; by St. Nicholas
but I'll have every mother's bastard of ye flea'd
alive, and your hides stretched for drum heads,
that ye may henceforth make a noise to some purpose!”

This threat and the tremendous voice in which
it was uttered, caused the whole multitude to quake
with fear. The hair of the orator rose on his head
like his own swine's bristles, and not a knight of
the thimble present, but his mighty heart died
within him, and he felt as though he could have
verily escaped through the eye of a needle.

But though this measure produced the desired
effect, in reducing the community to order, yet it
tended to injure the popularity of the great Peter,
among the enlightened vulgar. Many accused
him of entertaining highly aristocratic sentiments,
and of leaning too much in favour of the patricians.
Indeed there was some appearance of ground for
such a suspicion, for in his time did first arise that
pride of family and ostentation of wealth, that has
since grown to such a height in this city.[18] Those
who drove their own waggons, kept their own cows,
and possessed the fee simple of a cabbage garden,
looked down, with the most gracious, though mortifying
condescension, on their less wealthy neighbours;
while those whose parents had been cabin
passengers in the Goede Vrouw, were continually
railing out, about the dignity of ancestry—Luxury
began to make its appearance under divers forms,
and even Peter Stuyvesant himself (though in
truth his station required a little state and dignity.)
appeared with great pomp of equipage on public
occasions, and always rode to church in a yellow
waggon with flaming red wheels!

From this picture my readers will perceive,
how very faithfully many of the peculiarities of our
ancestors have been retained by their descendants.
The pride of purse still prevails among our wealthy
citizens. And many a laborious tradesman, after
plodding in dust and obscurity in the morning of
his life, sits down out of breath in his latter days
to enact the gentleman, and enjoy the dignity
honestly earned by the sweat of his brow. In this
he resembles a notable, but ambitious housewife,
who after drudging and stewing all day in the
kitchen to prepare an entertainment; flounces into
the parlour of an evening, and swelters in all the
magnificence of a maudlin fine lady.

It is astonishing, moreover, to behold how many
great families have sprung up of late years, who
pride themselves excessively on the score of ancestry.
Thus he who can look up to his father without
humiliation assumes not a little importance—he
who can safely talk of his grandfather, is still more
vain-glorious, but he who can look back to his
great grandfather, without stumbling over a cobler's
stall, or running his head against a whipping post,
is absolutely intolerable in his pretensions to family
—bless us! what a piece of work is here, between
these mushrooms of an hour, and these mushrooms
of a day!

For my part I look upon our old dutch families
as the only local nobility, and the real lords of the

soil—nor can I ever see an honest old burgher
quietly smoking his pipe, but I look upon him with
reverence as a dignified descendant from the Van
Rensellaers, the Van Zandts, the Knickerbockers,
and the Van Tuyls.

But from what I have recounted in the former
part of this chapter, I would not have my reader
imagine, that the great Peter was a tyrannical governor,
ruling his subjects with a rod of iron—on
the contrary, where the dignity of authority was
not implicated, he abounded with generosity and
courteous condescension. In fact he really believed,
though I fear my more enlightened republican
readers will consider it a proof of his ignorance and
illiberality, that in preventing the cup of social life
from being dashed with the intoxicating ingredient
of politics, he promoted the tranquility and happiness
of the people—and by detaching their minds
from subjects which they could not understand,
and which only tended to inflame their passions,
he enabled them to attend more faithfully and industriously
to their proper callings; becoming more
useful citizens and more attentive to their families
and fortunes.

So far from having any unreasonable austerity,
he delighted to see the poor and the labouring
man rejoice, and for this purpose was a great promoter
of holidays and public amusements. Under
his reign was first introduced the custom of cracking

eggs at Paas or Easter. New year's day
was also observed with extravagant festivity—and
ushered in by the ringing of bells and firing of
guns. Every house was a temple to the jolly god
—Oceans of cherry brandy, true Hollands and mulled
cyder were set afloat on the occasion; and not
a poor man in town, but made it a point to get
drunk, out of a principle of pure economy—taking
in liquor enough to serve him for half a year afterwards.

It would have done one's heart good also to
have seen the valiant Peter, seated among the old
burghers and their wives of a saturday afternoon,
under the great trees that spread their shade over
the Battery, watching the young men and women,
as they danced on the green. Here he would
smoke his pipe, crack his joke, and forget the rugged
toils of war, in the sweet oblivious festivities
of peace. He would occasionally give a nod of
approbation to those of the young men who shuffled
and kicked most vigorously, and now and then
give a hearty smack, in all honesty of soul, to the
buxom lass that held out longest, and tired down
all her competitors—infallible proofs of her being
the best dancer. Once it is true the harmony of
the meeting was rather interrupted. A young
vrouw, of great figure in the gay world, and who,
having lately come from Holland, of course led the
fashions in the city, made her appearance in not

more than half a dozen petticoats, and these too of
most alarming shortness.—An universal whisper
ran through the assembly, the old ladies all felt
shocked in the extreme, the young ladies blushed,
and felt excessively for the “poor thing,” and even
the governor himself was observed to be a little
troubled in mind. To complete the astonishment
of the good folks, she undertook in the course of
a jig, to describe some astonishing figures in algebra,
which she had learned from a dancing master
at Rotterdam.—Whether she was too animated in
flourishing her feet, or whether some vagabond
Zephyr took the liberty of obtruding his services,
certain it is that in the course of a grand evolution,
that would not have disgraced a modern ball room,
she made a most unexpected display—Whereat
the whole assembly were thrown into great admiration,
several grave country members were not
a little moved, and the good Peter himself, who
was a man of unparalleled modesty, felt himself
grievously scandalized.

The shortness of the female dresses, which had
continued in fashion, ever since the days of William
Kieft, had long offended his eye, and though extremely
averse to meddling with the petticoats of the
ladies, yet he immediately recommended, that every
one should be furnished with a flounce to the bottom.
He likewise ordered that the ladies, and
indeed the gentlemen, should use no other step in

dancing, than shuffle and turn, and double trouble;
and forbade, under pain of his high displeasure, any
young lady thenceforth to attempt what was termed
“exhibiting the graces.”

These were the only restrictions he ever imposed
upon the sex, and these were considered by
them, as tyrannical oppressions, and resisted with
that becoming spirit, always manifested by the gentle
sex, whenever their privileges are invaded—
In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly perceived, that if
he attempted to push the matter any further, there
was danger of their leaving off petticoats altogether;
so like a wise man, experienced in the ways of
women, he held his peace, and suffered them ever
after to wear their petticoats and cut their capers, as
high as they pleased.