A history of New York, from the beginning of the world to the end of the Dutch dynasty. Containing, among many surprising and curious matters, the unutterable ponderings of Walter the Doubter, the disastrous projects of William the Testy, and the chivalric achievements of Peter the Headstrong

Front matter

Glass.

Book

.1

Chap. I. — Description of the World 31

Chap. II. — Cosmogony, or Creation of the World , with a multitude of excellent theories, by which the creation of a world is shown to be no such difficult matter as common folk would imagine 40

Chap. III. — How that famous navigator, Noali, was shamefully nick-named; and how he committed an unpardonable oversight in not having four sons. With the great trouble of philosophers caused thereby, and the discovery of America 5 2

Ghap. IV. — Showing the great difficulty Philosophers have had in peopling America — xlnd how the Abori-

CONTENTS.

gines came to be begolten by accident — to the great relief and satisfaction of the Author . . . • 60 Chap, V. — In which the Author puts a mighty question to the rout, by the assistance of the Man in the Moon — which not only delivers thousands of people from great embarrassment, but likewise concludes this introductory book 69

Book II. Treating Of The First Settlement Of The Province Of Nieuw-nederlandt9

Chap. I. — In which are contained divers reasons why a man should not write in a hurry. Also of Master Hendrick Hudson, his discovery of a strange country — and how he was magnificently rewarded by the munificence of their High Mightinesses .... 90

Chap. II — Containing an account of a mighty Ark which floated, under the protection of St. Nicholas, from Holland to Gibbet Island — the descent of the strange Animals therefrom — a great victory, and a description of the ancient village of Communipaw . . . 104

Chap. III. — In which is set forth the true art of making a bargain — together with the miraculous escape of a great Metropolis in a fog — and the biography of certain heroes of Communipaw 113

Chap, IV. — How the heroes of Communipaw voyaged to Hell-Gate, and how they were received there 122

Chap. V. — How the heroes of Communipaw returned somewhat wiser than they went — and how the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream — and the dream that he dreamed 136

Chap. VI. — Containing an attempt at etymology — and of the founding of the great city of New-Amsterdam

Chap. VII. — How the city of New-Amsterdam waxed great, under the protection of OlofFe the Dreamer 151

CONTENTS.

BOOK iir.

IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE GOLDEN REIGN OF WOUTER VAN TWILLER.

Chap. I.— Of the renewed Wouter Van Twiller, his unparalleled virtues — as likewise his unutterable wisdom in the law case of Wandle Schoonhoven and Barent Bleecker — and the great admiration of the public thereat 159

Chap. II Containing* some account of the grand council of New- Amsterdam, as also divers especial good philosophical reasons why an alderman should be fat — with other particulars touching the state of the province 169

Chap. III. — How the town of New-Amsterdam arose out of mud, and came to be marvellously polished and polite — together with a picture of the manners of our great great grandfathers 181

Ch4p. IV. — Containing farther particulars of the Golden Age, and what constituted a fine Lady and Gentleman in the days of Walter the Doubter 191

ChAp. V. — In which the reader is beguiled into a delectable walk, which ends very differently from what it commenced 199

Chap. VI. — Faithfully describing the ingenious people of Connecticut and thereabouts — Showing, moreover, the true meaning of liberty of conscience, and a curious device among these sturdy barbarians, to keep up a harmony of intercourse, and promote population . 206

Chap. VII. — How these singular barbarians turned out to be notorious squatters. How they built air castles, and attempted to initiate the Nederlanders in the mystery of bundling 213

Chap. Vllf.— How the fort Goed Hoop was fearfully beleaguered — how the renowned Wouter fell into a profound doubt, and how he finally evaporated . 220

CONTENTS.

Book IV

CONTAINING THE CHRONICLES OF THE REIflN OF WILLIAM THE TESTY.

Chap. I. — Showing the nature of history in g-eneral : containing- furthermore the universal acquirements of William the Testy, and how a man may learn so much as to render himself g-ood for nothing 229

Chap. II. — In which are recorded the sage projects of a ruler of universal genius. The art of fighting by proclamation, — and how that the valiant Jacobus Van Curlet came to be foully dishonoured at fort Goed Hoop 241

Chap. Ill — Containing the fearful wrath of William the Testy, and the great dolour of the New-Amsterdammers ; because of the affair of fort Goed Hoop. And, moreover, how William the Testy did strongly fortify the city. — Together with the exploits of Stoffel Brinkkerhoff 250

Chap. IV. — Philosophical reflections on the folly of being happy in times of prosperity. — Sundry troubles on the southern frontiers. — Kow William the Testy had well nigh ruined the province through a cabalistic word — As also the secret expedition of Jan Jansen Alpendam, and his astonishing reward .... 260

Chap. V. — How William the Testy enriched the province by a multitude of laws, and came to be the patron of lawyers and bum-bailiffs. And how the people became exceedingly enlightened and unhappy under his instructions 271

Chap VI. — Of the great pipe plot — and of the dolorous perplexities into which William the Testy was thrown by reason of his having enlightened the multitude 281

Chap. VII. — Containing divers fearful accounts of Border wars, and tlie flagrant outrages of the Moss-troopers of Connecticut — with the rise of the great Amphyctionic council of the east, and the decline of William the Testv 289

ACCOUNT

OF

THE AUTHOR.

It was some time, if I recollect right, in the early part of the autumn of 1808, that a stranger applied for lodgings at the Independent Columbian Hotel in Mulberry street, of which I am landlord. He was a small, brisk looking old gentleman, dreseed in a rusty black coat, a pair of olive velvet breeches, and a small cockedhat. He had a few gray hairs plaited and clubbed behind, and his beard seemed to be of some eight-and-forty hours growth. The only piece of finery which he bore about him, was a bright pair of square silver shoe buckles, and all his baggage was contained in a pair of saddle bags, which he carried under his arm. His whole appearance was something out of the common run ; and my wife, who is a very shrewd body, at once set him down for some eminent country schoolmaster.

As the Independent Columbian Hotel is a very small house, I was a little puzzled at first where to put him ; but my wife, who seemed taken with his looks, would needs put him in her best cham-

VOL. I. 2

X ACCOUNT or

ber, which is genteelly set off with the profiles of the whole family, done in black, by those two great painters, Jarvis and Wood ; and commands a very pleasant view of the new grounds on the Collect, together with the rear of the Poor House and Bridewell, and a full front of the Hospital ; so that it is the cheei^fullest room 'in the whole house.

During the whole time that he stayed with us,' we found him a very worthy good sort of an old gentleman, though a little queer in his ways. He would keep in his room for days together, and if any of the children cried, or made a noise about his door, he would bounce out in a great passion, with his hands full of papers, and say something about " deranging his ideas ;" which made my wife believe sometimes that he was not altogether compos. Indeed, there was more than one reason to make her think so, for his room was always covered with scraps of paper and old mouldy books, laying about at sixes and sevens, which he would never let any body touch ; for he said he had laid them all away in their proper places, so that he might know where to find them ; though for that matter, he was half his time worrying about the house in search of some book or writing which he had carefully put out of the way. I shall never forget what a pother he once made, because my wife cleaned out his room when his back was turned, and put every thing to rights ; for he

THE AUTHOR. XI swore he would never be able to get his papers in order again in a twelvemonth. Upon this my wife ventured to ask him what he did with so many books and papers ? and he told her, that he was *' seeking for immortahty ;" which made her think more than ever, that the poor old gentleman's head was a little cracked.

He was a very inquisitive body, and when not in his room was continually poking about town,

hearing all the news, and prying into every thing

tlral vr«o govrxg r»n • this was ^>cxn,x^^^^ i^ ^, ^^

about election time, when he did nothing but bustle about from poll to poll, attending all ward meetings and committee rooms; though I could never find that he took part with either side of the question. On the contrary, he would come home and rail at both parties with great wrath — and plainly proved one day, to the satisfaction of my wife and three old ladies who were drinking tea with her, that the two parties were like two rogues, each tugging at a skirt of the nation ; and that in the end they would tear the very coat off its back, and expose its nakedness. Indeed, he was an oracle among the neighbours, who would collect around him to hear him talk of an afternoon, as he smoked his pipe on the bench before the door ; and I really believe he would have brought over the whole neighbourhood to his own side of the question, if they could ever have found out what it was,

Xll ACCOUNT OF

He was very much given to argue, or, as he called it, philosophize, about the most trifling matter ; and to do him justice, I never knew any body that was a match for him, except it was a grave looking old gentleman who called now and then to see him, and often posed him in an argument. But this is nothing surprising, as I have since found out this stranger is the city librarian ; and, of course, must be a man of great learning : and I have my doubts, if he had not some hand in the

followino- Vii'^^- "

As our lodger had been a long time with us, and we had never received any pay, my wife began to be somewhat uneasy, and curious to find out who and what he was. She accordingly made bold to put the question to his friend, the librarian, who replied in his dry way that he was one of the literati, which she supposed to mean some new party in politics. I scorn to push a lodger for his pay ; so I M day after day pass on without dunning the old gentleman for a farthing : but my wife, who always takes these matters on herself, and is, as I said, a shrewd kind of a woman, at last got out of patience, and hinted, that she thought it high time " some people should have a sight of some people's money." To which the old gentleman repHed, in a mighty touchy manner, that she need not make herself uneasy, for that he had a treasure there, (pointing t(i his sad- #llo-bags,) worth hov Avholc house put toi^ethen

THE AUTHOR. XIJI

This was the only answer we could ever get from him ; and as my wife, by some of those odd ways in which women find out every thing, learnt that he was of very great connexions, being related to the Knickerbockers of Scaghtikoke, and cousingerman to the congress-man of that name, she did not like to treat him uncivilly. What is more, she even offered, merely byway of making things easy, to let him live scot-free, if he would teach the children their letters ; and to try her best and get her neighbours to send their children also : but the old gentleman took it in such dudgeon, and seemed so aifronted at being taken for a school master, that she never dared speak on the subject again.

About two months ago, he went out of a morning, with a bundle in his hand — and has never been heard of since. All kinds of inquiries were made after him, but in vain. I wrote to his relations at Scaghtikoke, but they sent for answer, that he had not been there since the year before last, when he had a great dispute with the congress-man about politics, and left the place in a huff, and they had neither heard nor seen any thing of him from that time to this. I must own I felt very much worried about the poor old gentleman, for I thought something bad must have happened to him, that he should be missing so long, and never return to pay%is bill. I therefore advertised him in the newspapers, and though 2*

:ViV ACCOUNT OF

my melancholy advertisement was published bj' several humane printers, yet I have never been able to learn any thing satisfactory about him.

My wife now said it was high time to take care of ourselves, and see if he had left any thing behind in his room, that would pay us for his board and lodging. We found nothing, however, but some old books and musty writings, and his saddle-bags ; which, being opened in the presence of the librarian, contained only a few articles of worn-out clothes, and a large bundle of blotted paper. On looking over this, the librarian told us, he had no doubt it was the treasure which the old gentleman had spoke about ; as it proved to be a most excellent and faithful History of New- York, which he advised us by all means to publish : assuring us that it would be so eagerly bought up by a discerning publjc, that he had no doubt it would be enough to pay our arrears ten times over. Upon this we got a very learned school-master, who teaches our children, to prepare it for the press, which he accordingly has done ; and has, moreover, added to it a number of valuable notes of his own.

This, therefore, is a true statement of my reasons for having this work printed, without w^aiting for the consent of the author : and I here declare, that if he ever returns, (though 1 much fear some unhappy accidentals befallen him,) I stand ready

THE AUTHOR. XT

to account with him like a true and honest man. Which is all at present,

From the public's humble Serv't.

Seth Handaside*

Independent Columbian Hotel., New- York.

The foregoing account of the author was prefixed to the first edition of this work. Shortly after its publication a letter was received from him, by Mr. Handaside, dated at a small Dutch village on the banks of the Hudson, whither he had travelled for the purpose of inspecting certain ancient records. As this was one of those few and happy villages, into which newspapers never find their way, it is not a matter of surprise, that Mr. Knickerbocker should never have seen the numerous advertisements that were made concerning him ; and that he should learn of the publication of his history by mere accident.

He expressed much concern at its premature appearance, as thereby he was prevented frorh making several inportant corrections and alterations : as well as from profiting bj many curious hints which he had collected during his travels

XVI ACCOUNT OF

along the shores of the Tappaan Sea, and his sojourn at Haverstraw and Esopus.

Finding that there was no longer any immediate necessity for his return to New-York, he extended his journey up to the residence of his relations at Scaghtikoke. On his way thither, he stopped for some days at Albany, for which city he is known to have entertained a great partiality. He found it, however, considerably altered, and was much concerned at the inroads and improvements which the Yankees were making, and the consequent decline of the good old Dutch manners. Indeed, he was informed that these intruders were making sad innovations in all parts of the state ; where they had given great trouble and vexation to the regular Dutch settlers, by the introduction of turnpike gates, and country schoolhouses. It is said also, that Mr. Knickerbocker shook his head sorrowfully at noticing the gradual decay of the great Vander Heyden palace ; but was highly indignant at finding that the ancient Dutch church, which stood in the middle of the street, had been pulled down, since his last visit.

The fame of Mr. Knickerbocker's history having reached even to Albany, he received much flattering attentijjn from its worthy burghers, some of whom, however, pointed out tAvo or three very great errors he had fallen into, particularly that of suspending a lump of sugar over the Albany tea-tables, which, they assured him, had been dis-

THE AUTHOR. XVll

continued for some years past. Several families, moreover, were somewhat piqued that their ancestors had not been mentioned in his work, and showed great jealousy of their neighbours who had been thus distinguished ; while the latter, it must be confessed, plumed themselves vastly thereupon ; considering these recordings in the light of letters-patent of nobihty, establishing their claims to ancestry — which, in this republiean country, is a matter of no little solicitude and vain glory.

It is also said, that he enjoyed high favour and ' countenance from the governor, who once a^ked him to dinner, and was seen two or three times to shake hands with him, when they met in the street ; which certainly was going great lengths, considering that they differed in politics. Indeed, certain of the governor's confidential friends, to whom he could venture to speak his mind freely on such matters, have assured us, that he privately entertained a considerable good will for our author — nay, he even once went so far as to declare, and that openly too, and at his own table, just after dinner, that " Knickerbocker was a very " well meaning sort of an old gentleman, and no •' fool." From all which many have been led to suppose, that had our author been of different politics, and written for the newspapers instead of wasting his talents on histories, he might have risen to some post of honour and profit : perad-

XX ACCOUNT 0F

entered into the full enjoyment of the advantages of a literarj rei-^iitaiion. He was continually importuned to write advertisemeuts, petitions, handbills, and productions of similar import ; and, although he never meddled with the public papers, yet had he the credit of writing innumerable essays, and smart things, that appeared on all subjects, and all sides of the question ; in all which he was clearly detected " by his style."

He contracted, moreover, a considerable debt at the post office, in consequence of the numerous letters he received from authors and printers soliciting his subscription, and he was applied to by every charitable society for yearly donations, which he gave very cheerfully, considering these applications as so many compliments. He was once invited to a great corporation dinner ; and was even twice summoned to attend as a juryman at the court of quarter sessions. Indeed, so renowned did he become, that he could no longer pry about, as formerly, in all holes and corners of the city, according to the bent of his humour, unnoticed and uninterrupted \ but several times when he has been sauntering the streets, on his usual rambles of observation, equipped with his cane and cocked hat, the little boys at play have been known to cry, "there goes Diedrich!" — ^at which the old gentleman seemed not a little pleased, looking upon these salutations in the light of the praises of posterity.

THE AUTHOR. XXI.

In a word, if we take into consideration all these various honours and distinctions, together with an exuberant eulogium, passed on him in the Port Folio — (with which, we are told, the old gentleman was so much overpowered, that he was sick for two or three days) — it must be confessed, that few authors have ever lived to receive such illustrious rewards, or have so completely enjoyed in advance their own immortality.

After his return from Scaghtikoke, Mr. Knickerbocker took up his residence at a little rural retreat, which the Stuyvesants had granted him on the family domain, in gratitude for his honourable mention of their ancestor. It was pleasantly situated on the borders of one of the salt marshes beyond Corlear-s Hook: subject, indeed, to be occasionally overflowed, and much infested, in the summer time, with musquitoes; but otherwise very agreeable, producing abundant crops of salt grass and bull-rushes.

Here, we are sorry to say, the good old gentleman fell dangerously ill of a fever, occasioned by the neighbouring marshes. When he found his end approaching, he disposed of his worldly affairs, leaving the bulk of his fortune to the New- York Historical Society : his Hiedelburgh Catechism, and Vander Donck's work to the city library; and his saddle-bags to Mr. Handaside. He forgave all his enemies,— -that is to say, all who bore any enmity towards him: for a? to himself.

vol.. I. 3

XXU ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR.

he declared he died in good will with all the world. And, after dictating several kind messages to his relations at Scaghtikoke, as well as to certain of our most substantial Dutch citizens, he expired in the arms of his friend the librarian. His remains were interred, according to his own request, in St. Mark's churchyard, close by the bones of his favourite hero, Peter Stuyvesant : and it is rumoured, that the Historical Society have it in mind to erect a wooden monument to his memory in the Bowling-Green.

TO THE PUBLIC.

" To rescue from oblivion the memory of for- " mer incidents, and to render a just trifcwite of " renown to the many great and wonderful trans- " actions of our Dutch progenitors, Diedrich " Knickerbocker, native of the city of New- York, " produces this historical essay."* Like the great Father of History, whose words I have just quoted, I treat of times long past, over which the twilight of uncertainty had already thrown its shadows, and the night of forgetfulness was about to descend forever. With great solicitude had I long beheld the early history of this venerable and ancient city gradually slipping from our grasp, trembling on the lips of narrative old age, and day by day dropping piecemeal into the tomb. In a little while, thought I, and those reverend Dutch burghers, who serve as the tottering monuments of good old times, will be gathered to their fa-

* Beloe''s Herodotus-.

XXIV PREFACE.

thers; their children engrosfed Ij^^the emptypleasiires or insignificant transactions of the present oge, will neglect to treasure up the recollections oi' the past, and posterity will search in vain for memorials of the days of the Patriarchs. The origin of our city will be buried in eternal oblivion, and even the names and achievements of IV'outer Van Twiller, William Kicft, and Peter Stuyvesant, be enveloped in doubt and fiction^ like those of Romulus and Rhemus, of Charlemagne, king Arthur, Rinaldo, and Godfrey of Bolo^e.

Determined, therefore, to avert if possible this threatened misfortune, I industriously set myself to work, to gather together all the fragments of our infant history which still existed, and like my revered prototype, Herodotus, where no written records could be found, I have endeavoured to continue the chain of history by well-authenticated traditions.

In this arduous undertaking, which has been the whole business of a long and solitary hfe, it is incredible the number of learned authors 1 have consulted ; and all but to little purpose. Strange as it may seem, though such multitudes of excellent works have been written about this country, there are none extant which give any full and satisfactory account of the early history of New- York, orof its three first Dutch governors. I have, however, gained much valuable and curious mat-

PRETACE. XXV

ter, from an elaborate manuscript written in exceeding pure and classic low Dutch, excepting a few errors in orthography, which was found in the archives of the Stuyvesant family. Many legends, letters Sid other documents have I likewise gleaned, in my researches among the family chests and lumber garrets of our respectable Dutch citizens ; and I have gathered a host of well-authenticated traditions from divers excellent old ladies of my acquaintance, who requested that their names might not be mentioned. No'r must I neglect to acknowledge how greatly I have been assisted by that admirable and. praiseworthy institution, the New- York Historical Society, to which I here publicly return my sincere apknowledgements.

In the conduct of this inestimable work I have adopted no individual model ; but on the contrary have simply contented myself with combining and concentrating the excellencies of the most approved ancient historians. Like Zenophon, I have maintained the utmost impartiality, and the strictest adherence to truth throughout my history. I have enriched it after the manner of Sallust, with various characters of ancient worthies, drawn at full length and faithfully coloured. I have seasoned it with profound pohtical speculations like Thvx}dides, sweetened it with the graces of sentiment i^d^e Tacitas, and infased into the whole ihe dignity, the grandeur, and magnificence of lAvy,

XXVI PREFACE.

I am aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous very learned and judicious critics, for indulging too frequently in the bold excursive manner of my favourite Herodotus. And to be candid, I have found it impossiblewways to resist the allurements of those pleasing episodes, which like flowery banks and fragrant bowers, beset the dusty road of the historian, and entice him to turn aside, and refresh himself from his wayfaring. But I trust it will be found, that I have always resumed my staff,- and addressed myself to my weary journey with renovated spirits, so that both my readers and myself have been benefited by the relaxation.

Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and uniform endeavour to rival Polybius himself, in observing the requisite unity of History, yet the loose and unconnected manner in which many of the facts herein recorded have come to hand, rendered such an attempt extremely difficult. This difficulty was likewise increased, by one of the grand objects contemplated in my work, which was to trace the rise of sundry customs and institutions in this best of cities, and to compare them, when in the germ of infancy, with what they are in the present old age of knowledge and improvement.

But the chief merit on which I value myself, and found my hopes for future regard, is that faithful veracity with which I have compiled this

PREPACK. XXVil

invaluable little work ; carefully winnowing away the chaff of hypothesis, and discarding the tares of fable, which are too apt to spring up and choke the seeds of truth and wholesome knowledge. — Had I been anxious to captivate the superficial throng, who skim like swallows over the surface of literature ; or had I been anxious to commend my writings to the pampered palates of literary epicures, I might have availed myself of the obscurity that overshadows the infant years of our city, to introduce a thousand pleasing fictions. But I have scrupulously discarded many a pithy tale and marvellous adventure, whereby the drowsy ear of summer indolence might be enthralled ; jealousy maintaining that fidelity, gravity, and dignity, which should ever distinguish the historian. " For a writer of this class," observes an elegant critic, " must sustain the character of a wise man, writing for the instruction of posterity ; one who has studied to inform himself well, who has pondered his subject with care, and addresses himself to our judgment, rather than to our imagination."

Thrice happy, therefore, is this our renowned city, in having incidents worthy of swelling the theme of history ; and doubly thrice happy is it in having such an historian as myself to relate them. For after all, gentle reader, cities of themselves^ and, in fact, empires of themselves, are nothing without an historian. It is the patient nari-ator

XXVIU PREFACE.

who records their prosperity as they rise — wlio blazons forth the splendour of their noontide meridian — who props their feeble memorials as they totter to decay — who gathers together their scattered fragments as they rot — and who piously, at length, collects their ashes into the mausoleum of his work, and rears a monument that will transmit their renown to all succeeding ages.

What has been the fate of many fair cities of antiquity, whose nameless ruins encumber the plains of Europe and Asia, and awaken the fruitless inquiry of the traveller ? — they have sunk into dust and silence — they have perished from remembrance for want of an historian ! The philanthropist may weep over their desolation — the poet may wander among their mouldering arches and broken columns, and indulge the visionary flights of his fancy — but alas ! alas ! the modern historian, whose pen, like my own, is doomed to confine itself to dull matter of fact, seeks in vain among their oblivious remains, .for some memorial that may tell the instructive tale of their glory and their ruin.