NEW YORK; NEW SWEDEN.
The treaty with the Mohawks caused the utmost joy throughout the
settlements of New Netherlands. In May 1646, the brave and good Peter
Stuyvesant arrived as governor, and the same year Kieft sailed for
Europe, he being expelled the colony as the author of so much misery,
the West India company also resenting his barbarous measures. But the
vengeance of Heaven seemed to follow him on the sea, as the execrations
of the Dutch had followed him from land. The large and richly laden ship
in which he embarked was wrecked on the coast of Wales, and he and
eighty others perished in the remorseless waves.
Stuyvesant, a man of good education, as well as a truehearted, brave old
soldier, who had lost a leg in the wars, introduced a much milder line
of policy into the government of New Netherlands as regarded the
natives. In comparison with the New England settlements, New Netherlands
could not be said to have flourished, nor even had they, in a pecuniary
point of view, with all their trading engagements, proved a lucrative
speculation to the Dutch West India company; the truth was, they lacked
that element of freedom, both politically and commercially, on which
true prosperity is based. Manhattan did not flourish until its merchants
“obtained freedom to follow out their own impulses.” The merchants of
Amsterdam, at that time the first commercial city of the world, knew
this when, addressing their brethren at Manhattan, they said, “when your
commerce has become established, and your ships ride on every part of
the ocean, throngs that look towards you with eager eyes will be allured
to embark for your island.” But these words, though prophetic, as the
historian remarks, of the future destiny of that port, were fated not to
be fulfilled by the enterprise of Dutch merchants.
At the time of Stuyvesant’s assumption of office, the settlers in New
Netherlands amounted but to about 6,000. A few huts were gathered round
Fort Orange or Beaverswyk, as the present town of Albany was then
called; Long Island was still almost wholly uncleared forest, and “the
land there was of so little account, that Stuyvesant thought it no wrong
to his employers to purchase of them, at a small price, an extensive
bowery just beyond the coppices, among which browsed the goats and kine
of the village.” Nor was New Amsterdam, the seat of government, anything
more than a rude village of huts, protected by palisades, while the fort
itself could scarcely be considered a place of defence.
A colony so feeble could hardly be expected to preserve its borders from
the invasion of neighbours as vigorous and of as expansive a character
as those of New England, more especially as the puritan colonists never
scrupled to question the right of their weaker neighbours to any
territory at all. One of the first duties which the new governor,
therefore, undertook, was an adjustment of this disputed question of
boundary. It was a very difficult one. Restricted from war by the West
India company, he bent his efforts to negotiation; and going himself in
person to Hartford, a treaty was concluded on the 11th of November,
1650, by which the Dutch relinquished their claim to Connecticut, and
the New Englanders consented to their retaining possession of one-half
of Long Island. Poor as these conditions appear for the Dutch, the West
India company ratified the treaty, which the English never would do.
Well might the Dutch say, “the New England people are too powerful for
us.”
In 1651, war broke out between England and Holland. We have already seen
the good sense of Massachusetts in refusing to take part in it against
their Dutch neighbours; but we have not mentioned that Roger Williams,
then in England, was the means of delaying an armament against New
Netherlands. The Dutch, on their part, not expecting this magnanimity
from their powerful neighbours, and aware of their own incapacity for
the contest, endeavoured to purchase the aid of the Narragansetts in
case of attack; but Mixam, one of the chiefs, replied nobly; “I am poor,
but no presents of goods or of guns, or of powder and shot, shall draw
me into a conspiracy against my friends the English.” Fortunately, as we
have already related, peace was soon established between the two
European states, and the fleet which Cromwell had sent out against New
Netherlands directed its energies against another power.
But the New England colonists were not the only cause of anxiety to the
governor of New Netherlands; on the banks of the Delaware, the colony of
New Sweden was becoming an important rival in the tobacco trade with
Virginia., and for the beaver of the Schuylkill. Stuyvesant, therefore,
built Fort Casimir, near the mouth of the Brandywine River, as a
protection of Dutch commerce in that quarter. This fort being only five
miles from Fort Christiana, was regarded as an encroachment by the
Dutch; and Rising, the Swedish governor, making use of an unworthy
stratagem, overpowered the garrison and took possession. This was a
fatal deed. Stuyvesant received orders from the Dutch West India company
to make reprisals, and in September, 1655, sailed from New Amsterdam
with a force of 600, and entering the Delaware, found his career of
conquest so easy that it was almost inglorious. One fort after another
yielded; it seemed incredible that these men were of the race who, with
Gustavus at their head, had filled Europe with the renown of their arms.
But so it was; Rising capitulated on honourable terms, and the whole
Swedish colony—600 only in number, it must, however, be
remembered—acknowledged the jurisdiction of the Dutch; and, as a
separate state, New Sweden was at an end.
Of the colony thus absorbed—the colony that connects America with the
age as well as with the noble mind of Gustavus Adolphus—we must say yet
a few words, and these shall be from Fredrika Bremer, who, with natural
patriotism, visited the site of this Swedish settlement, and saw the few
relics which remain to this day. She says: “I was invited to meet at the
house of the present minister, an American, all the descendants of the
earliest Swedish settlers whom he knew. It was a company of from fifty
to sixty; there was, however, nothing Swedish about them but their
family names. No traditions of their emigration hither remain; language,
appearance, all have entirely merged into that of the now prevailing
Anglo-Saxon race. The church clock alone had something Swedish about it,
something of the character of the peasant’s clock. In the church, also,
was a large book placed upon a tall stand, on the page of which might be
read in large letters, “The people who dwelt in darkness have seen a
great light.” This inscription, together with the old church at
Willington in Delaware, and a few family names, are all that remain of
this early Swedish colony on the eastern shores of the New World. Yet
no, not all. A noble, peaceful memory of its life continues to exist on
the page of history, like a lovely episode of Idyllian purity and
freshness. The pilgrims of New England stained its soil with blood by
their injustice and cruelty to the Indians. The Swedish pilgrims, in
their treatment of the natives, were so just and wise, that during the
whole time of Swedish dominion, not one drop of Indian blood was shed by
them; the Indians loved them and called them ‘our own people.’ ‘The
Swedes are a God-fearing people,’ said William Penn; ‘they are
industrious and contented, and much attached to the customs and manners
of the mother-country. They live by agriculture, and the breeding of
cattle; the women are good housewives, spin and weave, take care of
their families, and bring up their children well.’” All historians agree
that the Swedes who thus became amalgamated into the general population
introduced into it a sound element of moral life, by which it has been
improved.
The dominion of the Dutch seemed now firmly established in the New
World; and the worth of such a colony began to be appreciated at home;
its great extent—from New England to Maryland, from the sea to the great
river of Canada and the remote north-western wilderness—was a subject of
boast. Emigration to the banks of the Hudson was encouraged. Merchants
now were beginning to be allured to Manhattan, and all presented an
aspect of promise for the future. Stuyvesant, who, seeming to have a
high idea of the prerogatives of governor, was inclined to rule with an
arbitrary hand, was kept under control by the directors at home; who,
when he took it upon himself to inspect the merchants’ books, checked
him with the reproof that “it was an unprecedented act in Christendom,
and that he must behave well to the merchants;” and when—himself a
violent Calvinist—he inclined to persecute the Lutherans, and imitating
Massachusetts, began to imprison and banish “the abominable sect of
Quakers,” he received the injunction, “Let every peaceful citizen enjoy
freedom of conscience; this maxim has made our city the asylum for
fugitives from every land; tread in its steps, and you shall be
blessed.”
And, treading in its steps, New Netherlands became the asylum and chosen
home of the oppressed, the persecuted and the enterprising of every
European nation. Jews and Christians all crowded over, all were united
to help in building up the colony; and troops of orphans, made so by war
and persecution, were shipped to the New World; and “a free passage was
offered to mechanics, farmers and labourers, foreigners and exiles—men
inured to toil and penury.” New York was even then laying its
cosmopolitan foundations; “its settlers were relics of the first-fruits
of the Reformation, from the Belgic provinces, from England, from
France; Protestants who had escaped from the massacre of St.
Bartholomew’s-eve, from Bohemia, from Germany and Switzerland, from
Piedmont and the Italian Alps.”[4] Even Africa had her representatives
in this home of all people, though her sons were not there by their own
voluntary choice. Among the other commercial speculations of the West
India company was the traffic in slaves; they had their trading stations
on the coast of Guinea, whence cargoes of negroes were shipped to
Manhattan. Stuyvesant was required by his employers to advance the sale
of negro slaves as much as lay in his power; these slaves were sold at
public auctions, the average price being about £12 per man. When the
demand was not great at Manhattan, they were sent on to the puritan
colonies. Slaves who continued the property of the company were, after a
certain time of bondage, settled on small farms, for which they paid a
stipulated amount of produce.
“The colony increased,” says Bancroft; “the villages were full of
children; the new year and the month of May were welcomed in with merry
frolics; New Netherlands was not an ascetic colony, like those of New
England; May-poles and dancing were allowed; the vine and the mulberry
were cultivated; the whale was pursued off the coast; flocks and herds
multiplied, and the tile, so long imported from Holland, began to be
manufactured near Fort Orange. New Amsterdam could, in a few years,
boast of stately buildings, and vied with Boston. ‘This happily situated
province,’ said its inhabitants, ‘may become the granary of our
fatherland; by God’s blessing we shall in a few years become a mighty
people.’”
With all these new elements of vitality, a bolder and freer spirit had
entered the colony. The people demanded a share of political power. They
were infected by the liberties of New England, and nothing less would
satisfy them. They assembled, and a petition, drawn up by George Baxter,
was presented by their delegates, requiring “that no laws should be
enacted without the consent of the people; that none should be appointed
to office but with the approbation of the people.”
This was an unheard-of measure; Stuyvesant was indignant; he had no
faith, he said, in the wavering multitude; and then he taunted them
because a New England man had drawn up their petition. “If the people
chose their own officers, he said, then the thief would vote for the
thief, the smuggler for the smuggler, and fraud and vice would become
privileged. No! he and the directors would never make themselves
responsible to subjects.” The delegates attempted to reason, and the
wilful old governor dissolved the assembly on pain of punishment.
The directors sanctioned the conduct of Stuyvesant. “Have no regard to
the consent of the people,” wrote they to him; “let them no longer
indulge the visionary dream that taxes can be imposed only by their
consent.” But the people obstinately indulged such dreams, and refused
to pay obnoxious taxes; and, even more than that, in the determination
to enjoy English liberties, saw with no unwillingness the possibility of
English jurisdiction extending even over New Netherlands.
A tempest was again brooding. Although the Dutch still kept possession
of the country as far south as Cape Henlopen, yet their claims were
disputed by Lord Baltimore, the proprietary of Maryland; and in 1659,
that nobleman’s rights being established, Fendall, then governor, laid
formal claim to Delaware; the College of Nineteen of the West India
company firmly disavowed it; and Fendall, being equally determined, the
directors declared their resolve to defend their rights, “even to the
spilling of blood.” Nor was the aspect of affairs more pacific on the
north. Massachusetts, as well as
New Netherlands, claimed the territory adjoining the upper waters of the
Hudson, and thence westerly as far as she pleased; whilst Connecticut,
which had just then obtained a charter, put forth her claim to territory
which the Dutch had hitherto held unquestioned.
“Where, then,” demanded the Dutch, with reference to all these absorbing
claims,—“where, then, is New Netherlands?” And the people of
Connecticut, speaking as if for all, replied, “We do not know.”
A homely proverb may seem inconsistent with the gravity of history, but
it may nevertheless be applicable on some occasions, as in the Dutch
settlements at this juncture, when misfortune seemed not only to _rain_,
but to _pour_. These contentions with regard to territory were carried
on during a renewed Indian war, which laid waste a village on the banks
of the Esopus, many of the inhabitants being murdered or carried into
captivity. The approach of winter alone put a stop to these horrors; and
that which added still more to the misery of the time, was the fact that
New Netherlands stood alone: none of its more powerful and fortunate
neighbours came to its rescue; it had no friends but the Mohawks, who
said, “The Dutch are our brethren. We keep with them but one council
fire; we are united by a covenant chain.” And not only were their
neighbours unwilling to help them, but there was no patriotism, no
public spirit, as yet within the heart of the state itself; New
Netherlands could neither help herself, nor would the council at home
advance either men or money for her defence. Alarmed and perplexed in
this crisis, Stuyvesant was ready to concede those privileges to the
people which he had hitherto refused. In 1663, a popular assembly was
convened. In the spring of the following year it met again, but by that
time new troubles were at hand. Rumours of an English invasion filled
the colony; and the representatives, seeing the paucity of means of
defence, contemplated very coolly the necessity of submission to this
new enemy. “If you cannot defend us,” said they, addressing the
governor, “to whom shall we turn?” And the governor, wishing to rouse a
spirit of patriotism in their souls, proposed that “every third man
should enlist for the defence of their adopted country, as had once been
done in the Fatherland.” But the people would not adopt his proposal. In
vain was a witty libeller of the magistrates fastened to a stake with a
bridle in his mouth; people _would_ talk rather than act. In the autumn
of 1664, “Long Island had revolted, the settlements on the Esopus
wavered, and the Connecticut men had possessed themselves by purchase
from the Indians of the whole sea-coast as far as North River.”
Stuyvesant wrote these alarming tidings to Holland.
Whilst England and Holland were yet at peace, three ships, with one
hundred men, were despatched from England to take possession of New
Netherlands in the name of the Duke of York, afterwards James II., to
whom his brother, Charles II., disregarding all previous chartered
claims, had granted a vast extent of territory, called New York,
including the country between the St. Croix and the Pemaquid, and on the
east the region between the Connecticut and the Delaware, with all the
islands south and west of Cape Cod, completely swallowing up New
Netherlands, and encroaching on Massachusetts and Connecticut. Under the
conduct of Sir Richard Nichols, groom of the bedchamber to the Duke of
York, the English squadron, having first touched at Boston, where they
demanded a levy of forces for their expedition, anchored before New
Amsterdam, which was totally unprepared for defence. In vain Stuyvesant
endeavoured to rouse a spirit of resistance in the inhabitants; the town
was at the mercy of the English, and the people were prepared for
nothing but surrender. It would have been madness to have striven
against such odds. Winthrop, now governor of Connecticut, and a true
friend of the Dutch, was on board the English fleet, and acted as
mediator. Stuyvesant, almost heart-broken, pleaded that “a surrender
would be reproved in the Fatherland;” and when the principal
inhabitants, who had assembled in the town-hall, demanded to see the
letter which the English commander had sent, he indignantly tore it to
pieces; the burghers, angry at this, drew up a protest against the
governor.
The next day, a deputation waited on Nichols, but he declined the
conference, informing them that on the morrow he should be at Manhattan,
and would see them there; and on a slight show of dissatisfaction added,
“raise the white flag of peace, for I shall come with ships of war and
soldiers!”
The flag of peace was hoisted; and on September 8th, the life, liberty,
religion and property of the inhabitants being secured, New Amsterdam
surrendered, and the people and the magistrates being all agreed,
Stuyvesant reluctantly ratified the capitulation.
New Amsterdam was no more; the Dutch dominion in America was overthrown
by a flagrant act of injustice, and yet the change seemed to produce in
the colony itself great satisfaction. Very few of the settlers removed
to Holland, and their wounded national pride found its consolation in
the enjoyment of English privileges and liberties. On the submission of
the capital, Fort Orange, now called Albany, from the Scottish title of
the Duke of York, quietly surrendered, and the Dutch and the Swedes of
Delaware shortly afterwards. The league with the Five Nations was
renewed. The whole extent of coast, from Acadia to Florida, was now in
possession of the English.
Three years afterwards, when a treaty of peace was signed between
England and Holland, the colony of Surinam, in Guiana, which the Dutch
had captured during the war, was left in their possession as a
compensation for New Netherlands. About the same time, the province of
Acadia was restored by treaty to France, greatly to the vexation of the
people of New England.