 | A warlike Portrait of the great Peter—and how General
Von Poffenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Cassimir. The beauties of Washington Irving, author of "The sketch-book," "Knickerbocker," "Crayon miscellany," &c. |  |
A warlike Portrait of the great Peter—and how General
Von Poffenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Cassimir.
Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have
I shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuyvesant
under the mild moonshine of peace, or rather the
grim tranquility of awful expectation; but now the war-drum
thrilling note, and the rude clash of hostile arms speaks
fearful prophecies of coming troubles. The gallant warrior
starts from soft repose, from golden visions, and voluptuous
ease; where, in the dulcet “piping time of peace,”
he sought sweet solace after all his toils. No more in beauty's
siren lap reclined, he weaves fair garlands for his lady's
brows; no more entwines with flowers his shining
sword; nor through the live long lazy summer's day, chants
forth his lovesick soul in madrigals. To manhood roused,
he spurns the amorous lute; doffs from his brawny back
the robe of peace, and clothes his pampered limbs in panoply
of steel. O'er his dark brow, where late the myrtle
waved—where wanton roses breathed enervate love—he
rears the beaming casque and nodding plume; grasps the
bright shield, and shakes the ponderous lance; or mounts
with eager pride the fiery steed, and burns for deeds of glorious
chivalry.
But soft, worthy reader! I would not have you imagine,
that any preux chevalier, thus hideously begirt with
iron, existed in the city of New-Amsterdam. This is but
a lofty and gigantic mode in which heroic writers always
talk of war, thereby to give it a noble and imposing aspect;
equipping our warriors with bucklers, helmets, and
lances, and such like outlandish and obsolete weapons,
the like which perchance they had never seen or heard
of; in the same manner that a cunning statuary arrays a
modern general or an admiral in the accoutrements of a
Cæsar or an Alexander. The simple truth then of all
this oratorical flourish is this—that the valiant Peter
Stuyvesant, all of a sudden, found it necessary to scour
his trusty blade, which too long had rusted in its scabbard,
and prepare himself to undergo the hardy toils of
war, in which his mighty soul so much delighted.
Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagition—or
rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which still
hangs up in the family mansion of the Stuyvesants, arrayed
in all the terrors of a true Dutch General. His
regimental coat of German blue, gorgeously decorated
with a goodly show of large brass buttons, reaching from
his waistband to his chin. The voluminous skirts turned
up at the corners and separating gallantly behind, so as
to display the seat of a sumptuous pair of brimstone
coloured trunk breeches—a graceful style still prevalent
among the warriors of our day, and which is in conformity
themselves in rear. His face rendered exceeding
terrible and warlike by a pair of black mustachios; his
hair strutting out on each side in stiffly pomatumed ear-locks,
and descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist;
a shining stock of black leather supporting his chin, and a
little, but fierce cocked hat, stuck with a gallant and fiery
air over his left eye. Such was the chivalric port of
Peter the Headstrong; and when he made a sudden halt,
planted himself firmly on his solid supporter, with his
wooden leg inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in order
to strengthen his position, his right hand grasping a gold-headed
cane, his left resting upon the pummel of his
sword; his head dressing spiritedly to the right with a
most appalling and hard favoured frown upon his brow—
he presented altogether one of the most commanding,
bitter looking and soldierlike figures that ever strutted
upon canvass. Proceed we now to inquire the cause of
this warlike preparation.
The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the
south or Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the
chronicles of the reign of William the Testy. These
encroachments, having been endured with that heroic
magnanimity which is the corner stone, or, according to
Aristotle, the left hand neighbour of true courage, had
been repeated and wickedly aggravated.
The Swedes who were of that class of cunning pretenders
to Christianity, who read the Bible upside down,
whenever it interferes with their interests, inverted the golden
maxim; and when their neighbour suffered them to
smite him on the one cheek, they generally smote him on
the other also, whether turned to them or not. Their repeated
aggressions had been among the numerous sources
of vexation that conspired to keep the irritable sensibilities
of Wilhelmus Kieft in a constant fever; and it was only
owing to the unfortunate circumstance that he had always
a hundred things to do at once, that he did not take such
unrelenting vengeance as their offences merited. But they
had now a chieftain of a different character to deal with;
and they were soon guilty of a piece of treachery, that
threw his honest blood in a ferment and precluded all further
sufferance.
Printz, the governor of the province of New-Sweden,
being either deceased or removed, for of this fact some
uncertainty exists, was succeeded by Jan Risingh, a gigantic
and splay-footed, might have served for the model of a Samson
or a Hercules. He was no less rapacious than mighty,
and withal as crafty as he was rapacious; so that, in fact,
there is very little doubt, had he lived some four or five centuries
before, he would have been one of those wicked giants,
who took such a cruel pleasure in pocketting distressed
damsels, when gadding about in the world; and locking
them up in enchanted castles, without a toilet, a change of
linen, or any other convenience. In consequence of which
enormities, they fell under the high displeasure of chivalry,
and all true, loyal, and gallant knights, were instructed to
attack and slay outright any miscreant they might happen
to find, above six feet high; which is doubtless one reason
that the race of large men is nearly extinct, and the generations
of latter ages so exceeding small.
No sooner did Governor Risingh enter upon his office
than he immediately cast his eyes upon the important
post of Fort Casimer, and formed the righteous resolution
of taking it into his possession. The only thing that remained
to consider was the mode of carrying his resolulution
into effect; and here I must do him the justice to say,
that he exhibited a humanity rarely to be met with
among leaders, and which I have never seen equalled in
modern times, excepting among the English, in their glorious
affair at Copenhagen. Willing to spare the effusion
of blood, and the miseries of open warfare, he benevolently
shunned every thing like avowed hostility or regular
siege, and resorted to the less glorious but more merciful
expedient of treachery.
Under pretence, therefore of paying a neighbourly visit
to General Von Poffenburgh, at his new post of Fort
Casimir, he made requisite preparation, sailed in great
state up the Delaware, displayed his flag with the most
ceremoneous punctilio, and honoured the fortress with a
royal salute previous to dropping anchor. The unusual
noise awakened a veteran Dutch sentinel, who was napping
faithfully at his post, and who having suffered his
match to go out, contrived to return the compliment, by
discharging his rusty musket with the spark of a pipe,
which he borrowed from one of his comrades. The salute
indeed would have been answered by the guns of the fort,
had they not been unfortunately out of order, and the magazine
deficient in ammunition—accidents to which forts
have in all ages been liable, and which were the more excusable
been erected about two years, and General Von Poffenburgh,
its mighty commander had been fully occupied
with matters of much greater importance.
Risingh, highly satisfied with this courteous reply to
his salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew
its commander was marvellously delighted with these little
ceremonials, which he considered as so many acts of homage
paid unto his greatness. He then landed in great
state, attended by a suite of thirty men—a prodigious and
vainglorious retinue, for a petty governor of a petty settlement,
in those days of primitive simplicity; and to the full
as great an army as generally swells the pomp and marches
in the rear of our frontier commanders at the present
day.
The number in fact might have awakened suspicion, had
not the mind of the great Von Poffenburgh been so completely
engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himself, that he
had not room to admit a thought besides. In fact, he considered
the concourse of Risingh's followers as a compliment to
himself—so apt are great men to stand between themselves
and the sun, and completely eclipse the truth by their own
shadow.
It may readily be imagined how much General Von
Poffenburgh was flattered by a visit from so august a
personage; his only embarrassment was, how he should
receive him in such a manner as to appear to the greatest
advantage, and make the most advantageous impression.
The main guard was ordered immediately to turn out,
and the arms and regimentals (of which the garrison possessed
full half a dozen suits) were equally distributed
among the soldiers. One tall lank fellow appeared in a
coat intended for a small man, the skirts of which reached
a little below his waist, the buttons were between his
shoulders, and the sleeves half way to his wrists, so that
his hands looked like a couple of huge spades; and the
coat not being large enough to meet in front, was linked
together by loops, made of a pair of red worsted garters.
Another had an old cocked hat, stuck on the back of his
head, and decorated with a bunch of cock's tails—a third
had a pair of rusty gaiters, hanging about his heels—while
a fourth, who was a short duck-legged little Trojan, was
equipped in a huge pair of the general's cast off breeches,
which he held up with one hand, while he grasped his
firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred in similar
no shirts, and but a pair and a half of breeches between
them, wherefore they were sent to the black-hole to keep
them out of view. There is nothing in which the talents
of a prudent commander are more completely testified than
in thus setting matters off to the greatest advantage; and it
is for this reason that our frontier posts at the present day
(that of Niagara for example,) display their best suit of regimentals
on the back of the sentinel who stands in sight of
travellers.
His men being thus gallantly arrayed—those who
lacked muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and
every man being ordered to tuck in his shirt tail and pull
up his brogues, General Von Poffenburgh first took a sturdy
draught of foaming ale, which, like the magnanimous
More of Morehall, was his invariable practice on all great
occasions; which done, he put himself at their head, ordered
the pine planks which served as a draw bridge, to be
laid down, and issued forth from his castle, like a mighty
giant, just refreshed with wine. But when the two heroes
met, then began a scene of warlike parade, and chivalric
courtesy that beggars all description. Risingh, who,
as I before hinted, was a shrewd, cunning politician, and
had grown gray much before his time, in consequence of
his craftiness, saw at one glance the ruling passion of the
great Von Poffenburgh, and humoured him in all his valorous
fantasies.
Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front
of each other; they carried arms, and they presented arms;
they gave the standing salute and the passing salute:—they
rolled their drums, they flourished their fifes, and they waved
their colours—they faced to the left, and they faced to
the right, and they faced to the right about:—they wheeled
forward, and they wheeled backward, and they wheeled into
echelon:—they marched and they counter-marched by
grand divisions, by single divisions, and by subdivisions,—
by platoons, by sections, and by files,—to quick time, in
slow time, and in no time at all: for, having gone through all
the evolutions of two great armies, including the eighteen
manœuvres of Dundas; having exhausted all that they could
recollect or imagine of military tactics, including sundry
strange and irregular evolutions, the like of which were never
seen before or since, excepting among certain of our newly
raised militia—the two great commanders and their respective
troops came at length to a dead halt, completely exhausted
or two buskined theatric heroes, in the renowned tragedies
of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other heroical and
fighting tragedy, marshal their gallows-looking, duck-legged
heavy-heeled myrmidons, with more glory and self-admiration.
These military compliments being finished, General
Von Poffenburgh escorted his illustrious visiter, with
great ceremony, into the fort; attended him throughout
the fortifications; showed him the horn-works, crown-works,
half-moons, and various other out works; or rather
the places where they ought to be erected; and where
they might be erected if he pleased; plainly demonstrating
that it was a place of “great capability,” and though
at present but a little redoubt, yet that it evidently was
a formidable fortress in embryo. This survey over, he
next had the whole garrison put under arms, exercised
and reviewed, and concluded by ordering the three bridewell
birds to be hauled out of the black hole, brought up
to the halberts, and soundly flogged for the amusement
of his visiter and to convince him that he was a great
disciplinarian.
There is no error more dangerous than for a commander
to make known the strength, or, as in the present
case, the weakness of his garrison; this will be exemplified
before I have arrived to the end of my present story,
which thus carries its moral, like a roasted goose his
pudding, in the very middle. The cunning Risingh,
while he pretended to be struck dumb outright, with the
puissance of the great Von Poffenburgh, took silent note
of the incompetency of his garrison, of which he gave a
hint to his trusty followers, who tipped each other the
wink, and laughed most obstreperously—in their sleeves.
The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded,
the party adjourned to the table; for among his other
great qualities, the general was remarkably addicted to
huge entertainments, or rather carousals; and in one
afternoon's campaign would leave more dead men on the
field than ever he did in the whole course of his military
career. Many bulletins of these bloodless victories do
still remain on record; and the whole province was once
thrown in amaze by the return of one of his campaigns;
wherein it was stated, that though, like Captain Bobadil,
he had only twenty men to back him, yet, in the short
space of six months, he had conquered and utterly annihilated
thousand cabbages, one thousand bushels of potatoes, one
hundred and fifty kilderkins of small beer, two thousand
seven hundred and thirty-five pipes, seventy-eight pounds
of sugar plums, and forty bars of iron, besides sundry
small meats, game, poultry, and garden stuffs. An
achievement unparalleled since the days of Pantagruel
and his all-devouring army; and which showed that it
was only necessary to let bellipotent Von Poffenburgh
and his garrison loose in an enemy's country, and in a
little while they would breed a famine, and starve all the
inhabitants.
No sooner, therefore, had the general received the
first intimation of the visit of Governor Risingh, than he
ordered a great dinner to be prepared; and privately sent
out a detachment of his most experienced veterans to rob
all the hen roosts in the neighbourhood, and lay the pigsties
under contribution—a service to which they had
been long inured, and which they discharged with such
incredible zeal and promptitude, that the garrison table
groaned under the weight of their spoils.
I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the
valiant Von Poffenburgh, as he presided at the head of
the banquet. It was a sight worth beholding:—there he
sat, in his greatest glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like
that famous wine-bibber, Alexander, whose thirsty virtues
he did most ably imitate; telling astonishing stories
of his hair-breadth adventures and heroic exploits, at
which, though all his auditors knew them to be most
incontinent and outrageous gasconades, yet did they cast
up their eyes in admiration, and utter many interjections
of astonishment. Nor could the general pronounce any
thing that bore the remotest resemblance to a joke but
the stout Risingh would strike his brawny fist upon the
table, till every glass rattled again, throwing himself
back in his chair, and uttering gigantic peals of laughter,
swearing most horribly it was the best joke he ever
heard in his life. Thus all was rout and revelry and
hideous carousal within Fort Casimir; and so lustily did
Von Poffenburgh ply the bottle that in less than four
short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, who
all sedulously emulated the deeds of their chieftain, dead
drunk, in singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and drinking
patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a Welsh
pedigree, or a plea at Chancery.
No sooner did things come to this pass than the crafty
Risingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept themselves
sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them neck
and heels, and took formal possession of the fort, and all
its dependencies, in the name of Queen Christina of
Sweden; administering, at the same time, an oath of
allegiance to all the Dutch soldiers who could be made
sober enough to swallow it. Risingh then put the
fortifications in order, appointed his discreet and vigilant
friend Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking,
Swede, to the command; and departed, bearing with
him this truly amiable garrison and their puissant commander,
who, when brought to himself by a sound
drubbing, bore no small resemblance to a “deboshed fish,”
or bloated sea monster, caught upon dry land.
The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent
the transmission of intelligence to New-Amsterdam; for
much as the cunning Risingh exulted in his stratagem,
he dreaded the vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuyvesant,
whose name spread as much terror in the neighbourhood
as did whilome that of the unconquerable Scanderberg
among his scurvy enemies the Turks.
| A warlike Portrait of the great Peter—and how General
Von Poffenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Cassimir. The beauties of Washington Irving, author of "The sketch-book," "Knickerbocker," "Crayon miscellany," &c. | |