University of Virginia Library

6. CHAP. VI.

Like a ward committee of politic cats, who,
when engaged in clamorous gibberings, and catterwaulings,
eyeing one another with hideous grimaces,
spitting in each other's faces, and on the point
of breaking forth into a general clapper-clawing, are
suddenly put to scampering rout and confusion
by the startling appearance of a house-dog—So was
the no less vociferous council of New Amsterdam,
amazed, astounded, and totally dispersed, by the
sudden arrival of the enemy. Every member made
the best of his way home, waddling along as fast as
his short legs could fag under their heavy burthen,
and wheezing as he went with corpulency and terror.
When he arrived at his castle, he barricadoed
the street door, and buried himself in the cider cellar,
without daring to peep out, lest he should have
his head carried off by a cannon ball.

The sovereign people all crowded into the market
place, herding together with the instinct of sheep
who seek for safety in each others company, when
the shepherd and his dog are absent and the wolf is
prowling round the fold. Far from finding relief

however, they only encreased each others terrors.
Each man looked ruefully in his neighbour's face, in
search of encouragement, but only found in its woe
begone lineaments, a confirmation of his own dismay.
Not a word now was to be heard of conquering
Great Britain, not a whisper about the sovereign
virtues of economy—while the old women
heightened the general gloom by clamorously bewailing
their fate, and incessantly calling for protection
on St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant.

Oh how did they bewail the absence of the lion
hearted Peter!—and how did they long for the comforting
presence of Antony Van Corlear! Indeed
a gloomy uncertainty hung over the fate of these
adventurous heroes. Day after day had elapsed
since the alarming message from the governor,
without bringing any further tidings of his safety.
Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded as to what
had befallen him and his loyal squire. Had they
not been devoured alive by the Cannibals of Piscataway
and Cape Cod?—where they not put to the
question by the great council of Amphyctions?—
where they not smothered in onions by the terrible
men of Pyquag?—In the midst of this consternation
and perplexity, when horror like a mighty
night-mare sat brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric
city of New Amsterdam, the ears of the multitude
were suddenly startled by a strange and distant
sound—it approached—it grew louder and

louder—and now it resounded at the city gate. The
public could not be mistaken in the well known
sound—A shout of joy burst from their lips as the
gallant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by
his faithful trumpeter, came gallopping into the market
place.

The first transports of the populace having subsided,
they gathered round the honest Antony, as
he dismounted from his horse, overwhelming him
with greetings and congratulations. In breathless
accents he related to them the marvellous adventures
through which the old governor and himself
had gone, in making their escape from the clutches
of the terrible Amphyctions. But though the
Stuyvesant Manuscript, with its customary minuteness
where any thing touching the great Peter is
concerned, is very particular, as to the incidents of
this masterly retreat, yet the critical state of the
public affairs, will not allow me to indulge in a full
recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that while
Peter Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in his
mind, how he could make good his escape with
honour and dignity, certain of the ships sent out
for the conquest of the Manhattoes touched at the
Eastern ports, to obtain needful supplies, and to call
on the grand council of the league, for its promised
co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant
Peter, perceiving that a moment's delay was fatal,
made a secret and precipitate decampment, though

much did it grieve his lofty soul, to be obliged to
turn his back even upon a nation of foes. Many
hair-breadth scapes and divers perilous mishaps,
did they sustain, as they scoured, without sound of
trumpet, through the fair regions of the east.
Already was the country in an uproar with hostile
preparation—and they were obliged to take a large
circuit in their flight, lurking along, through the
woody mountains of the Devil's back bone; from
whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day, like a
lion, and put to route a whole legion of squatters,
consisting of three generations of a prolific family,
who were already on their way to take possession
of some corner of the New Netherlands. Nay,
the faithful Antony had great difficulty at sundry
times, to prevent him in the excess of his wrath,
from descending down from the mountains, and
falling sword in hand, upon certain of the border
towns, who were marshalling forth their draggletailed
militia.

The first movements of the governor on reaching
his dwelling, was to mount the roof, from
whence he contemplated with rueful aspect the hostile
squadron. This had already come to anchor
in the bay, and consisted of two stout frigates,
having on board, as John Josselyn, gent. informs
us, three hundred valiant red coats. Having taken
this survey, he sat himself down, and wrote an
epistle to the commander, demanding the reason of

his anchoring in the harbour without obtaining
previous permission so to do. This letter was
couched in the most dignified and courteous terms,
though I have it from undoubted authority, that
his teeth were clinched, and he had a bitter
sardonic grin upon his visage, all the while
he wrote. Having dispatched his letter, the grim
Peter stumped to and fro about the town, with a
most war-betokening countenance, his hands thrust
into his breeches pockets, and whistling a low dutch
psalm tune, which bore no small resemblance to
the music of a north east wind, when a storm is
brewing—the very dogs as they eyed him skulked
away in dismay—while all the old and ugly women
of New Amsterdam, ran howling at his heels, imploring
him to save them from murder, robbery,
and piteous ravishment!

The reply of Col. Nichols, who commanded
the invaders, was couched in terms of equal courtesy
with the letter of the governor—declaring the right
and title of his British Majesty to the province;
where he affirmed the dutch to be mere interlopers;
and demanding that the town, forts, &c. should be
forthwith rendered into his majesty's obedience
and protection—promising at the same time, life,
liberty, estate and free trade, to every dutch denizen,
who should readily submit to his majesty's
government.

Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle
with some such harmony of aspect as we may suppose

a crusty farmer, who has long been fattening
upon his neighbour's soil, reads the loving letter of
John Stiles, that warns him of an action of ejectment.
The old governor however, was not to be
taken by surprize, but thrusting, according to custom,
a huge quid of tobacco into his cheek, and
cramming the summons into his breeches pocket,
promised to answer it the next morning. In the
mean time he called a general council of war of his
privy councillors and Burgomasters, not for the
purpose of asking their advice, for that, as has been
already shewn, he valued not a rush; but to make
known unto them his sovereign determination, and
require their prompt adherence.

Before, however, he convened his council he resolved
upon three important points; first, never to
give up the city without a little hard fighting, for he
deemed it highly derogatory to the dignity of so renowned
a city, to suffer itself to be captured and stripped,
without receiving a few kicks into the bargain.
Secondly, that the majority of his grand council
were a crew of arrant platter breeches, utterly destitute
of true bottom—and thirdly—that he would
not therefore suffer them to see the summons of
Col. Nichols, lest the easy terms it held out, might
induce them to clamour for a surrender.

His orders being duly promulgated, it was a
piteous sight to behold the late valiant Burgomasters,
who had demolished the whole British empire

in their harangues; peeping ruefully out of their
nests, and then crawling cautiously forth, dodging
through narrow lanes and alleys; starting at every
little dog that barked, as if it had been a discharge of
artillery—mistaking lamp posts for British grenadiers,
and in the excess of their panic, metamorphosing
pumps into formidable soldiers, levelling
blunderbusses at their bosoms! Having however,
in despite of numerous perils and difficulties of the
kind, arrived safe, without the loss of a single man,
at the hall of assembly, they took their seats and
awaited in fearful silence the arrival of the governor.
In a few moments the wooden leg of the intrepid
Peter, was heard in regular and stout-hearted
thumps upon the stair case—He entered the cahmber,
arrayed in full suit of regimentals, a more
than ordinary quantity of flour shook into his ear
locks, and carrying his trusty toledo, not girded on
his thigh, but tucked under his arm. As the governor
never equipped himself in this portentous
manner, unless something of martial nature was
working within his fearless pericranium, his council
regarded him ruefully as a very Janus bearing
fire and sword in his iron countenance—and forgot
to light their pipes in breathless suspence.

The great Peter was as eloquent as he was
valorous—indeed these two rare qualities seemed
to go hand in hand in his composition; and, unlike
most great statesmen, whose victories are only

confined to the bloodless field of argument, he
was always ready to enforce his hardy words, by
no less hardy deeds. Like another Gustavus addressing
his Dalecarlians, he touched upon the
perils and hardships he had sustained in escaping
from his inexorable foes—He next reproached the
council for wasting in idle debate and impertinent
personalities that time which should have been
devoted to their country—he then recalled the
golden days of former prosperity, which were only
to be regained by manfully withstanding their
enemies—endeavoured to rouse their martial fire,
by reminding them of the time, when, before the
frowning walls of fort Christina, he led them on to
victory—when they had subdued a whole army of
fifty Swedes—and subjugated an immense extent
of uninhabited territory.—He strove likewise to
awaken their confidence, by assuring them of the
protection of St. Nicholas; who had hitherto
maintained them in safety; amid all the savages of
the wilderness, the witches and squatters of the
east, and the giants of Merry land. Finally he
informed them of the insolent summons he had
received, to surrender, but concluded by swearing
to defend the province as long as heaven was on
his side, and he had a wooden leg to stand upon.
Which noble sentence he emphasized by a tremendous
thwack with the broad side of his sword upon
the table, that totally electrified his auditors.

The privy councillors, who had long been accustomed
to the governor's way, and in fact had
been brought into as perfect dicipline, as were ever
the soldiers of the great Frederick; saw that there
was no use in saying a word—so lighted their pipes
and smoked away in silence, like fat and discreet
councillors. But the Burgomasters being less under
the governor's controul—considering themselves
as representatives of the sovereign people,
and being moreover inflated with considerable importance
and self-sufficiency, which they had acquired
at those notable schools of wisdom and morality,
the popular meetings; (whereof in fact I am
told certain of them had been chairmen) these I
say, were not so easily satisfied. Mustering up
fresh spirit, when they found there was some
chance of escaping from their present perilous jeopardy,
without the disagreeable alternative of fighting,
they arrogantly requested a copy of the summons
to surrender, that they might shew it to a
general meeting of the people.

So insolent and mutinous a request would have
been enough to have roused the gorge of the tranquil
Van Twiller himself—what then must have
been its effect upon the great Stuyvesant, who was
not only a Dutchman, a Governor, and a valiant
wooden legged soldier to boot, but withal a man of
the most stomachful and gunpowder disposition.
He burst forth into a blaze of heroical indignation,

to which the famous rage of Achilles was a mere
pouting fit—swore not a mother's son of them
should see a syllable of it—that they deserved,
every one of them, to be hung, drawn and quartered,
for traitorously daring to question the infallibility
of government—that as to their advice or
concurrence, he did not care a whiff of tobacco for
either—that he had long been harrassed and thwarted
by their cowardly councils; but that they might
henceforth go home, and go to bed like old women;
for he was determined to defend the colony himself,
without the assistance of them or their adherents!
So saying he tucked his sword under his
arm, cocked his hat upon his head, and girding
up his loins, stumped indignantly out of the council
chamber—every body making room for him as
he passed.

No sooner had he gone than the sturdy Burgomasters
called a public meeting in front of the
Stadt-house, where they appointed as chairman one
Dofue Roerback, a mighty gingerbread baker in the
land, and formerly of the cabinet of William the
Testy. He was looked up to, with great reverence
by the populace, who considered him a man of
dark knowledge, seeing he was the first that imprinted
new year cakes with the mysterious hieroglyphics
of the Cock and Breeches, and such like
magical devices.

This great Burgomaster, who still chewed the
cud of ill will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence
of having been ignominiously kicked out
of his cabinet—addressed the greasy multitude in
an exceeding long-winded speech, in which he informed
them of the courteous summons to surrender—of
the governor's refusal to comply therewith
—of his denying the public a sight of the summons,
which he had no doubt, from the well known liberality,
humanity, and forbearance, of the British nation,
contained conditions highly to the honour and
advantage of the province.

He then proceeded to speak of his excellency
in high sounding terms, suitable to the dignity and
grandeur of his station, comparing him to Nero,
Caligula, and other great men of yore, of whom he
had often heard William the Testy discourse in his
learned moods—Assuring the people, that the history
of the world did not contain a despotic outrage
to equal the present, for atrocity, cruelty, tyranny,
blood-thirstiness, battle, murder, and sudden death
—that it would be recorded in letters of fire, on the
blood-stained tablet of history! that ages would
roll back with sudden horror, when they came to
view it! That the womb of time—(by the way
your orators and writers take strange liberties with
the womb of time, though some would fain have us
believe that time is an old gentleman) that the
womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful horrors,

would never produce a parallel enormity!—
that posterity would be struck dumb with petrifying
astonishment, and howl in unavailing indignation,
over the records of irremediable barbarity!—With
a variety of other heart-rending, soul stirring tropes
and figures, which I cannot enumerate—Neither
indeed need I, for they were exactly the same that
are used in all popular harangues and fourth of July
orations at the present day, and may be classed in
rhetoric under the general title of Rigmarole.

The patriotic address of Burgomaster Roerback
had a wonderful effect upon the populace, who, though
a race of sober phlegmatic Dutchmen, were amazing
quick at discerning insults; for your ragged
rabble, though it may bear injuries without a murmur,
yet is always marvellously jealous of its sovereign
dignity. They immediately fell into the
pangs of tumultuous labour, and brought forth, not
only a string of right wise and valiant resolutions,
but likewise a most resolute memorial, addressed
to the governor, remonstrating at his conduct—
which he no sooner received than he handed it into
the fire; and thus deprived posterity of an invaluable
document, that might have served as a precedent
to the enlightened coblers and taylors, of the
present day, in their sage intermeddlings with politics.