University of Virginia Library

5. CHAP. V.

It will need but very little witchcraft on the
part of my enlightened reader—particularly if he is
in any wise acquainted with the ways and habits of
that most potent and blustering monarch, the sovereign
people—to discover, that notwithstanding all
the incredible bustle and talk of war that stunned
him in the last chapter, the renowned city of New
Amsterdam is in sad reality, not a whit better prepared
for defence than before. Now, though the
people, having got over the first alarm, and finding
no enemy immediately at hand, had with that valour
of tongue, for which your illustrious rabble is
so famous, run into the opposite extreme, and by
dint of gallant vapouring and rodomontado had actually
talked themselves into the opinion that they
were the bravest and most powerful people under
the sun, yet were the privy councillors of Peter
Stuyvesant somewhat dubious on that point. They
dreaded moreover lest that stern hero should return
and find, that instead of obeying his peremptory
orders, they had wasted their time in listening

to the valiant hectorings of the mob, than which
they well knew there was nothing he held in more
exalted contempt.

To make up therefore as speedily as possible
for lost time, a grand divan of the councillors and
robustious Burgomasters was convened, to talk over
the critical state of the province and devise measures
for its safety. Two things were unanimously
agreed upon in this venerable assembly: first,
that the city required to be put in a state of defence—and
secondly, That as the danger was imminent,
there should no time be lost—which points
being settled, they immediately fell to making long
speeches and belabouring one another in endless
and intemperate disputes. For about this time
was this unhappy city first visited by that talking
endemic so universally prevalent in this country,
and which so invariably evinces itself, wherever a
number of wise men assemble together; breaking
out in long, windy speeches, caused, as physicians
suppose, by the foul air which is ever generated
in a crowd. Now it was, moreover, that they first
introduced the ingenious method of measuring the
merits of an harangue by the hour-glass; he being
considered the ablest orator who spoke longest on a
question—For which excellent invention it is recorded,
we are indebted to the same profound
dutch critic who judged of books by their bulk,

and gave a prize medal to a stupendous volume of
flummery—because it was “as tick as a cheese.”

The reporters of the day, therefore, in publishing
the debates of the grand council, seem merely
to have noticed the length of time each member
was on the floor—and the only record I can find of
the proceedings in the important business of which
we are treating, mentions, that “Mynheer—made
a very animated speech of six hours and a half, in
favour of fortification—He was followed by Mynheer—on
the other side, who spoke with great
clearness and precision for about eight hours—
Mynheer—suggested an amendment of the bill
by substituting in the eighth line, the words `four
and twenty,' instead of `twenty four,' in support of
which he offered a few remarks, which only took
up three hours and a quarter—and was followed by
Mynheer Windroer in a most pithy, nervous, concise,
elegant, ironical, argumentative strain of eloquence,
superior to any thing which ever issued
from the lips of a Cicero, a Demosthenes, or any
orator, either of antient or modern times—he occupied
the floor the whole of yesterday; this morning
he arose in continuation, and is in the middle
of the second branch of his discourse, at this present
writing; having already carried the council through
their second nap—We regret,” concludes this
worthy reporter, “that the irresistable propensity
of our Stenographer to nod, will prevent us from

giving the substance of this truly luminous and
lengthy speech.”

This sudden passion for endless harangues, so
little consonant with the customary gravity and
taciturnity of our sage forefathers, is supposed by
certain learned philosophers of the time, to have
been imbibed, together with divers other barbarous
propensities, from their savage neighbours; who
were peculiarly noted for their long talks and council
fires; and who would never undertake any affair
of the least importance, without previous debates
and harangues among their chiefs and old men.
But let its origin be what it may, it is without
doubt a cruel and distressing disease, which has
never been eradicated from the body politic to this
day; but is continually breaking out, on all occasions
of great agitation, in alarming and obnoxious
flatulencies, whereby the said body politic is grievously
afflicted, as with a wind cholic.

Thus then did Madam Wisdom, (who for some
unaccountable, but doubtlessly whimsical reason,
the wits of antiquity have represented under the
form of a woman) seem to take a mischievous
pleasure in jilting the grave and venerable councillors
of New Amsterdam. The old factions of
Square heads and Platter Breeches, which had been
almost strangled by the herculean grasp of Peter
Stuyvesant, now sprung up with tenfold violence—
To complete the public confusion and bewilderment,

the fatal word Economy, which one would
have thought was dead and buried with William
the Testy, was once more set afloat, like the apple
of discord, in the grand council of the New Nederlandts—according
to which sound principle of policy,
it was deemed more expedient to throw away twenty
thousand guilders upon an inefficient plan of defence,
than thirty thousand on a good and substantial one
—the province thus making a clear saving of ten
thousand guilders.

But when they came to discuss the mode of
defence, then began a war of words that baffles all
description. The members being, as I observed,
drawn out into opposite parties, were enabled to
proceed with amazing system and regularity in the
discussion of the questions before them. Whatever
was proposed by a Square head, was opposed by the
whole tribe of Platter breeches, who like true politicians,
considered it their first duty to effect the
downfall of the Square heads—their second, to elevate
themselves, and their third, to consult the welfare
of the country. This at least was the creed
of the most upright among the party, for as to the
great mass, they left the third consideration out of
the question altogether.

In this great collision of hard heads, it is astonishing
the number of projects for defence, that
were struck out, not one of which had ever been
heard of before, nor has been heard of since, unless

it be in very modern days—projects that threw
the windmill system of the ingenious Kieft completely
in the back ground—Still, however, nothing
could be decided on, for as fast as a formidable
host of air castles were reared by one party, they
were demolished by the other—the simple populace
stood gazing in anxious expectation of the mighty
egg, that was to be hatched, with all this cackling,
but they gazed in vain, for it appeared that the
grand council was determined to protect the province
as did the noble and gigantic Pantagruel his
army—by covering it with his tongue.

Indeed there was a magnanimous portion of
the members, fat, self important old burghers, who
smoked their pipes and said nothing, excepting to
negative every plan of defence that was offered.
These were of that class of wealthy old citizens
who having amassed a fortune, button up their
pockets, shut their mouths, look rich and are good
for nothing all the rest of their lives. Like some
phlegmetic oyster, which having swallowed a pearl,
closes its shell, settles down in the mud and parts
with its life sooner than its treasure. Every plan
of defence seemed to these worthy old gentlemen
pregnant with ruin. An armed force was a legion
of locusts, preying upon the public property—to
fit out a naval armament was to throw their money
into the sea—to build fortifications was to bury it in
the dirt. In short they settled it as a sovereign

maxim, so long as their pockets were full, no matter
how much they were drubbed—A kick left no
scar—a broken head cured itself—but an empty
purse was of all maladies the slowest to heal, and
one in which nature did nothing for the patient.

Thus did this venerable assembly of sages,
lavish away that time which the urgency of affairs
rendered invaluable, in empty brawls and long
winded arguments, without even agreeing, except
on the point with which they started, namely, that
there was no time to be lost, and delay was ruinous.
At length St. Nicholas, taking compassion
on their distracted situation, and anxious to preserve
them from total anarchy, so ordered, that in the
midst of one of their most noisy and patriotic debates,
when they had nearly fallen to loggerheads
in consequence of not being able to convince each
other, the question was happily settled by a messenger,
who bounced into the chamber and informed
them, that the hostile fleet had arrived, and
was actually advancing up the bay!

Thus was all further necessity of either fortifying
or disputing completely obviated, and thus was
the grand council saved a world of words, and the
province a world of expense—a most absolute and
glorious triumph of economy!