THE DISASTROUS YEAR.
Purchase of Staten Island.--The Restoration cf Charles
Second.--Emigration Invited.--Settlement of Bushwick.--The
Peculiar People.--Persecution of John Brown.--The Governor
Rebuked.--Cumulation of Disasters.--The Outbreak at
Esopus.--The Panic.--Measures of the Governor.--The Indian
Fort.--The expedition to Mamaket.--Capture of the
Fort.--Annihilation of the Esopus Indians.
In the year 1661, the Company purchased of Melyn, the patroon, for
about five hundred dollars, all his rights to lands on Staten Island.
Thus the whole island became the property of the Company. Grants of
lands were immediately issued to individuals. The Waldenses, and the
Huguenots from Rochelle in France, were invited to settle upon the
island. A block-house was built which was armed with two cannon and
garrisoned by ten soldiers. Fourteen families were soon gathered in a
little settlement south of the Narrows.
Upon the restoration of Charles the Second, in England, the Royalists
and churchmen insisted upon the restoration of the hierarchy. The
Restoration was far from being the unanimous act of the nation. The
republicans and dissenters, disappointed and persecuted, were disposed
in ever increasing numbers, to take refuge in the New World. The West
India Company of Holland being in possession of a vast territory,
between the Hudson and the Delaware, which was quite uninhabited, save
by a few tribes of Indians, availed themselves of this opportunity to
endeavor to draw emigrants from all parts of Europe, and especially
from England, to form settlements upon their lands.
They issued proclamations inviting settlers and offering them large
inducements. The country, which embraced mainly what is now New
Jersey, was described in glowing terms as if it were a second Eden.
And yet there was no gross exaggeration in the narrative.
"This land," they wrote,
"is but six weeks' sail from Holland. It is fertile in the
extreme. The climate serene and temperate, is the best in
the world. The soil is ready for the plough, and seed can be
committed to it with scarcely any preparation. The most
valuable timber is abundant. The forest presents in
profusion, nuts and wild fruit of every description. The
richest furs can be obtained without trouble. Deer, turkeys,
pigeons and almost every variety of wild game, are found in
the woods, and there is every encouragement for the
establishment of fisheries."
Having presented this view of the region, to which emigrants were
invited, and having also announced an exceedingly attractive charter
of civil and religious privileges which would be granted them, in the
following terms the invitation to emigrate was urged:
"Therefore if any of the good Christians, who may be assured
of the advantages to mankind of plantations in these
latitudes, shall be disposed to transport themselves to said
place, they shall have full liberty to live in the fear of
the Lord upon the aforesaid good conditions and shall be
likewise courteously used.
"We grant to all Christian people of tender conscience, in
England or elsewhere oppressed, full liberty to erect a
colony between New England and Virginia in America, now
within the jurisdiction of Peter Stuyvesant."
Twenty-three families, most of them French, established a settlement
on Long Island, at the place now called Bushwick. The village grew
rapidly and in two years had forty men able to bear arms.
The proclamation issued by the Company, inviting emigrants to settle
upon the lands between the Hudson and the Delaware, attracted much
attention in Europe. Committees were sent to examine the lands which
it was proposed thus to colonize. The region between New Amstel and
Cape Henlopen, being quite unoccupied, attracted much attention. A
company, the members of which may be truly called a peculiar people,
decided to settle there. An extraordinary document was drawn up,
consisting of one hundred and seventeen articles for the government of
the association. In this singular agreement it is written:
"The associates are to be either married men or single men
twenty-four years old, who are free from debt. Each one is
bound to obey the ordinances of the society and not to seek
his own advancement over any other member. No clergyman is
to be admitted into the society. Religious services are to
be as simple as possible. Every Sunday and holiday the
people are to assemble, sing a Psalm and listen to a chapter
from the Bible, to be read by one of the members in
rotation. After this another Psalm is to be sung. At the end
of these exercises the court shall be opened for public
business. The object of the association being to establish a
harmonious society of persons of different religious
sentiments, all intractable people shall be excluded from
it, such as those in communion with the Roman See usurious
Jews, English stiff-necked Quakers, Puritans, fool-hardy
believers in the Millenium and obstinate modern pretenders
to revelation."
While the Company in Holland, were inviting emigrants to their
territory of the New World, with the fullest promises of religious
toleration, their governor, Stuyvesant, was unrelentingly persecuting
all who did not sustain the established religion.
A very quiet, thoughtful, inoffensive man, John Brown, an Englishman,
moved from Boston to Flushing. He was a plain farmer, very retiring in
his habits and a man of but few words. From curiosity he attended a
Quaker meeting. His meditative spirit was peculiarly impressed with
the simplicity of their worship. He invited them to his house, and
soon joined their society. The magistrates informed Stuyvesant that
John Brown's house had become a conventicle for Quakers. Being
arrested, he did not deny the charge, and was fined twenty-five pounds
and threatened with banishment.
The next week a new proclamation was issued, saying,
"The public exercise of any religion but the Reformed, in
houses, barns, ships, woods or fields, will be punished by a
fine of fifty guilders; double for the second offence; and
for the third quadruple with arbitrary correction."
John Brown, either unable or refusing to pay his fine, was taken to
New Amsterdam, where he was imprisoned for three months. An order was
then issued announcing his banishment.
"For the welfare," it was written,
"of the community, and to crush as far as possible, that
abominable sect who treat with contempt both the political
magistrate, and the ministers of God's holy word, and who
endeavor to undermine the police and religion, John Brown is
to be transported from this province in the first ship ready
to sail, as an example to others."
He was sent to Holland in the "Gilded Fox." Stuyvesant wrote to the
Company, "The contumacious prisoner has been banished as a terror to
others who, if not discouraged by this example, will be dealt with
still more severely."
The Company in Holland, was not at all in sympathy with its intolerant
governor. The exile was received by them respectfully. The following
dispatch, condemnatory of the severe measures of Stuyvesant, was
forwarded to him:
"Although it is our cordial desire that similar and other
sectarians may not be found there, yet, as the contrary
seems to be the fact, we doubt very much whether vigorous
proceedings against them ought not to be discontinued;
unless indeed, you intend to check and destroy your
population, which, in the youth of your existence, ought
rather to be encouraged by all possible means.
"Wherefore it is our opinion that some connivance is useful,
and that at least the consciences of men, ought to remain
free and unshackled. Let every one remain free so long as he
is modest, irreproachable in his political conduct, and so
long as he does not offend others or oppose the government.
This maxim of moderation has always been the guide of our
magistrates in this city. The consequence has been that
people have flocked from every land to this asylum. Tread
thus in their steps and we doubt not you will be blessed."
From this time persecution ceased in New Netherland. Either Governor
Stuyvesant was convinced by the argument in the above dispatch, or he
was intimidated by his rebuke. After two years of absence John Brown
returned to New Netherland, and it is said that the governor received
him as though he were ashamed of what he had done.
The year 1663 was a year of many disasters. Early in the year an
earthquake shook severely the whole of New Netherland and of the
adjacent regions. The melting of the snow in the spring, and the
falling rains caused a desolating freshet, which inundated all the
meadow lands of the rivers, utterly destroying the crops. This
calamity was followed by the small-pox, which spread with a like
rapidity and fatality among the Europeans and the Indians. Of the
Iroquois Indians over a thousand died. In addition to these calamities
came, worst of all, war with its indescribable horrors.
At Esopus the hand of industry had been very successfully employed.
Quite a crowded population filled the houses, within the palisades,
and the rapidly increasing numbers had rendered it necessary to
commence another village, which was called Wildwyck, on a fertile
plain at a little distance from the fort. Under the blessings of
peace, wealth had increased. The church numbered sixty members. Most
of the garrison had been withdrawn as no longer needed.
But the Indians could not forget their brethren sent to life-long
slavery at Curaçoa. It was increasingly evident that the peace, into
which they had entered, was not cordial. It was a compulsory peace. An
unendurable outrage had driven them into the war. And by the terms of
peace, while they had been compelled to return all the captives they
held, fifteen of their warriors were doomed to perpetual slavery.
Murmurings were heard which foreboded an outbreak. Some of the
settlers became alarmed and communicated their fears to Governor
Stuyvesant. He sent word that he would soon visit Esopus, to
investigate the state of affairs. The Indian chiefs, hearing of this,
returned the message, that if he were coming to renew their treaty of
friendship they should expect him to come unarmed and they would be
happy to meet him in council, according to their custom, in the open
field outside of the gate.
It was a pleasant morning of the 7th of June. The governor had not yet
arrived. The settlers, thrown off their guard by the friendly message
which the chiefs had returned, were scattered about in the fields
engaged in their daily avocations. Between eleven and twelve o'clock
at noon, an unusual number of savages spread themselves through the
villages and entered the dwellings. They were apparently, as usual,
entirely unarmed, though it afterwards appeared that they had
concealed weapons. They brought corn, beans, and other trifling
articles for sale.
Suddenly the war-whoop was uttered from one savage throat as a signal,
and was instantly re-echoed by a hundred others. Tomahawks and knives
and battle-axes gleamed in the air, and the work of extermination was
instantly and energetically commenced. The settlers were taken
entirely by surprise. Every Indian had marked his man. Neither women
nor children were spared. Those who could not easily be captured were
struck down. Many of the Indians speedily regained their guns which
they had concealed in the grass. Houses were plundered and set on
fire.
But the colonists did not submit to their fate without valiant
resistance. For several hours the most deadly battle raged. The yells
of the savages, and the shrieks of wounded women and children,
devoured by the flames which consumed their dwellings, were awful
beyond any power of the pen to describe.
Roelof Swartwout was entrusted with the municipal government at
Esopus. His office of Schout somewhat resembled that of a mayor in one
of our modern cities. He displayed much presence of mind and bravery
on this occasion. Rallying a few bold men around him, he at length
succeeded in driving the savages from within the palisades and in
shutting the gates. Several hours of this awful conflict had now
passed. Evening had come. Devastation, ruin, death surrounded them.
The outer village was in ashes. The fields were strewn with the bodies
of the dead. The half-burned corpses of women and children were to be
seen amidst the smoking cinders of their former homes.
The village within the palisades had been set on fire. A few houses
had been burned, consuming the mangled remains of those who had fallen
beneath the tomahawk and battle-axe of the Indian. Fortunately a
change of the wind had saved most of the village from destruction.
Swartwout and his brave little band, protected by the palisades, were
able through the loop-holes, to strike down any Indian, who should
appear within reach of their bullets. They were now safe.
But this awful storm of war, which had passed over their beautiful
valley had, in three short hours of a summer's afternoon, converted
the whole scene into a spectacle of almost unearthly misery. Every
dwelling outside of the palisades was in ashes. Several within the
enclosure were consumed, and the charred bodies of the dead were
intermingled with the blackened timbers. Twenty-one of the settlers
had been killed outright. Nine were severely wounded. Forty-five,
mostly women and children, were taken captive, to be carried into
bondage more dreadful than death.
A night of woe ensued, during which the yells of the savages, in their
triumphal orgies dancing around their captives, and probably exposing
some to the torture, fell appallingly upon the ears of the sleepless
survivors within the gates. Was this God's allowed retribution for the
crime of sending the Indians into slavery? It certainly was the
consequence.
The intelligence of this dreadful calamity was immediately transmitted
to Governor Stuyvesant at New Amsterdam. Through all the settlements
the tidings spread, creating universal panic. Mothers and maidens
turned pale as they thought of another Indian war. The farmers and
their families, abandoning everything, fled from all directions to the
forts within their reach. Every able-bodied man was put to work in
strengthening the defences.
The governor promptly dispatched forty-two well-armed men to Esopus.
Large bounties were offered to all who would enlist. Forty-six
friendly Indians from Long Island offered their services and were
accepted as auxiliaries. Ample supplies were forwarded to the
devastated village. Scouting parties were sent up the river to search
out the savages in their hiding-places. The Mohawks interposed their
friendly mediation in behalf of peace, and succeeded in recovering and
restoring to the Dutch several captives.
They also informed the governor that the Indians had taken the
remaining captives to one of their villages about thirty miles
southwest of Esopus, and that they refused to release them unless the
governor would send them rich presents and make a peace without any
compensation for what had transpired at Esopus. It seems that the
Indians regarded the massacre there simply as the just atonement which
they had exacted for the enslavement of their brethren, and that now
their rude sense of justice being satisfied, they were ready to enter
into a solid peace. But the governor was not at all disposed to regard
the matter in this light. He deemed it necessary, under the
circumstances, that the Indians should feel the full weight of the
white man's avenging hand.
Just then a woman, Mrs. Van Imbrock, who had succeeded in effecting
her escape from the Indians, reached Esopus, having traversed the
wilderness through a thousand perils. She was a woman of great energy,
intelligent and observing, and her heart was bleeding in view of the
friends she had left behind her in captivity. She was eager to act as
a guide to lead a war-party for the rescue of her friends in the
retreat of the savages. She estimated their number at about two
hundred warriors. They occupied a square fort, very strongly built of
timber. And still they adopted the precaution of sending the prisoners
every night under strong guard, to some distant place in the
mountains. The Indians had a very clear appreciation of the value of
their captives as hostages.
Governor Stuyvesant sent a force of two hundred and ten men, under
Captain Crygier, to attack them. Forty-one of these were Indians and
seven were negroes. They took with them two small cannon, with which
at a safe distance, they could soon open a breach through the Indian
ramparts, which were merely bullet-proof. A garrison of about seventy
men was left behind for the protection of Esopus.
At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 26th of July, this little band
commenced its march through the trails of the wilderness, towards the
setting sun. The path was a rugged one over high hills and across
mountain streams. They had traversed but a few miles when night came
on and they bivouacked until daybreak. The next morning they pressed
forward with all vigor until they were within about six miles of the
fort. One hundred and sixteen men were then sent forward to attack the
Indians by surprise, while the remainder prudently followed close
after as a reserve.
But the wary Indians, through their scouts, had ascertained the
approach of the foe and had fled with their prisoners to the
mountains. The Dutch were astonished at the strength of the fort and
at the scientific skill with which it was constructed. The Indians had
evidently learned not a little of military art from the Europeans.
Three parallel rows of palisades enclosed a large square, with
loopholes through which unobstructed aim could be taken at assailants.
Within the palisades there were strong block-houses, provided also
with loopholes, to which houses the warriors could retreat, as to
citadels, in case the outer works were taken. Between the houses and
the outworks there was a creek. The whole fortress would have been no
disgrace to an European engineer.
The party found very comfortable quarters in the fort for the night,
and an ample supply of provisions. An Indian woman, not being aware
that the white men were in the fort, came back for some article she
had left behind. She was taken prisoner and informed her captors of
the direction in which the Indians had fled. As it is necessary for
such a party of two or three hundred, to keep together and as the
trail through meadows, across streamlets and over mountains is narrow,
it is not difficult having once found their track to follow it.
It was determined, after a brief consultation, to pursue them. The
next morning at daybreak, the pursuit was commenced. Twenty-five men
were left to keep possession of the fort. After several hours of very
fatiguing travel, they reached the spot, on a high mountain, where the
squaw supposed that the Indians had established their camp. But not an
Indian was there. They had probably left their spies on the path, who
had informed them that the foe was at hand.
The woman now said that they must have gone on to another stronghold
they had, at the distance of about six miles. The march was continued
through great difficulties. But it was fruitless. Not an Indian was to
be found. They had another stronghold about twelve miles farther on.
It was possible that they might be found there. But all were fatigued
and discouraged, and were disposed to give up the hopeless chase. At
one time they caught sight of nine savages in the distance, but they
fled like deer.
Captain Crygier, deeming all further attempt to overtake the savages
hopeless, decided to return to the Indian fort. Having reached it, all
hands engaged in the work of destruction. The savages had collected
there a large supply of provisions for the approaching winter. The
colonists took all they could carry away with them and destroyed the
rest. They then utterly demolished the buildings and palisades,
committing all to the flames. The works must have cost the Indians an
immensity of labor. There were two hundred acres of corn, waving
richly in the summer breeze, giving promise of an abundant harvest.
All was trampled down. It was a fearful calamity to the wretched
Indians. Probably not a few perished of famine the next winter. There
was by no means a sufficient supply of game in the forest to meet
their wants. Their main reliance was upon their cornfields.
While they were engaged in this work of destruction four savages
appeared upon a hill near some of the colonists, and cried out to them
"To-morrow we will come and fight you, for we must all now die of
hunger."
The next morning the colonists commenced their return. They showed
their respect for the prowess of the savages, by forming their little
army in strong military array, with the advance, the centre and the
rear guard. At nine o'clock in the evening of August 1st, 1663, they
reached their anxious friends at Esopus, without the loss of a man.
Ere long news reached Esopus, that the savages were building another
fort, which they called a castle, about thirty-six miles southwest of
Esopus, probably near the present town of Mamakating, Sullivan county.
An expedition of one hundred and twenty five men, under Captain
Crygier, was immediately organized to destroy the works. A young
Indian guided the party. Several horses were taken with them to bring
back those who might be wounded.
At one o'clock in the afternoon of September third, the party set out
from Esopus. A march of nine miles brought them to a creek, which was
so swollen by recent rains, that they were delayed for several hours
until they could construct a rude bridge across it. In the meantime
the rain was falling in torrents. It was not until four o'clock in the
afternoon of the next day that the party effected its passage across
the stream. They then pressed forward twelve miles farther and
bivouacked for the night.
At daybreak they were again upon the move, and about two o'clock in
the afternoon emerged from the forest in view of the fort. It stood
upon an elevated plain. Like the one we have already described, it
consisted of a square enclosure, surrounded by two rows of strong
palisades, and a third had already been commenced. These posts,
pointed at the top, were firmly planted in the ground, and were of the
thickness of a man's body, and rose fifteen feet into the air.
Captain Crygier, after carefully scrutinizing the works, divided his
force into two sections for the attack. He was well aware that he had
a foe to encounter who would fight with the utmost desperation behind
his intrenchments. One party of the assailants crept cautiously along,
beneath the covert of a hill, until, coming to the open plain, they
were discovered by a squaw, who uttered a terrible cry which roused
the whole garrison of Indians.
A sudden onslaught was then made by both parties pouring, like an
inundation, through the unfinished works into the fort. The savages,
taken by Surprise, and many of them without their arms, were thrown
into a panic. Many of them rushed out of the fort, leaving their guns
in the houses behind. The Dutch followed close upon their heels,
shooting them, and with keen sabres cutting them down. Just beyond the
fort there was a creek. The terrified Indians precipitated themselves
into it, and by wading and swimming forced their way across. Here they
attempted to rally and opened fire upon the pursuing Dutch. The fire
was returned with so much vigor that the Indians were driven with loss
from their position. The assailants soon crossed the creek, and the
discomfited Indians, in hopeless rout, fled wildly into the trackless
wilderness.
In the impetuous assault the chief of the tribe, Papoquanchen, was
slain, and fourteen of his warriors with four Indian women and three
children Twenty-two Christian prisoners were recovered, and fourteen
Indians were taken captive. The Dutch lost but three killed and six
were wounded. The houses were all plundered by the victors. There was
found in them eighty guns, and "bearskins, deerskins, blankets, elk
hides and peltries sufficient to load a shallop." Forty rolls of
wampum and twenty pounds of powder were also taken. The colonists
loaded themselves with such plunder as they could carry. The rest was
destroyed.
The return of the victors with the rescued Christian captives, gave
great joy at Esopus. We regret to record that, on the march home,
there was one of the Indian prisoners, an old man, who refused to go
any farther. Captain Crygier had him led a few steps out of the path
and shot. In unfeeling terms the captain writes, "We carried him a
little aside and then gave him his last meal."
The remainder of the month of September was employed in sending out
small scouting parties, and in protecting the farmers while gathering
their harvests. Though the Esopus Indians were pretty thoroughly
crushed by these disasters which had befallen them, they showed no
sign of submission. It was estimated that not more than twenty-eight
warriors, with fourteen women and a few children survived. And these
were without homes and almost in a state of starvation. Still it was
decided to fit out a third expedition against them to effect their
utter overthrow.
It was thought most probable that the dispersed Indians would rally
again within the fort at Mamakating, which had been captured and
sacked but not as yet destroyed. It was perhaps left as a lure to draw
the Indians to that point where they could be surrounded and
annihilated.
A strong well-armed party of one hundred and sixty-four soldiers set
out on this expedition. Forty six of these were friendly Indians from
a tribe called Marespincks, whose home was on Long Island. The
soldiers were familiar with the route which they had so recently
traversed. A weary but rapid march of twenty hours brought them to the
scene of their recent victory. Not an Indian was there. All was
silence and awful desolation. Even the colonists were appalled by the
spectacle which opened before them. The Indians were so thoroughly
panic stricken that they had not ventured back even to bury their
dead. The decaying corpses lay scattered around, many of them half
consumed by vultures and wolves. The birds and beasts, with wild
cries, were devouring their prey. Parties were sent out to scour the
woods. But no signs of the savages could be found. In fact the Esopus
tribe was no more. It was afterwards ascertained that the wretched
remnant had fled south and were finally blended and lost among the
Minnisincks and other southern tribes.
The fort was so strong that it required not a little labor to destroy
it. It was necessary to cut down or dig up the palisades, which were
composed of trunks of trees twenty feet long and eighteen inches in
diameter. Several cornfields were found in the vicinity wherever an
opening in the forest and fertile soil invited the labor of the
indolent Indian. Two days were occupied in cutting down the corn,
already beautiful in its golden ripeness, and in casting the treasure
into the creek. The palisades were then piled around the dwellings and
in a few hours nothing remained of the once imposing fortress but
smoking embers.
This Indian fort or castle, it is said, stood on the banks of what is
now called the Shawangunk kill, in the town of the same name, at the
southwestern extremity of Ulster county. It seems as though it were
the doom of armies on the march, ever to encounter floods of rain.
Scarcely had the troops commenced their return ere the windows of
heaven seemed to be opened and the fountains of the great deep to be
broken up.
At ten o'clock on the morning of the 5th of October, 1664, the march
was commenced. The rain came on like that of Noah's deluge. The short
afternoon passed away as, threading ravines and climbing mountains,
they breasted the flood and the gale. The drenched host was soon
enveloped in the gloom of a long, dark, stormy night. Weary and
shelterless, the only couch they could find was the dripping sod, the
only canopy, the weeping skies. The weeping skies! yes, nature seemed
to weep and mourn over the crimes of a lost race,--over man's
inhumanity to man. It was not until the evening of the next day, the
rain still continuing, that these weary soldiers reached their home at
Esopus.