To explain the apparently sudden movement of Peter Stuyvesant against the
crafty men of the East Country, I would observe that, during his campaigns
on the South River, and in the enchanted regions of the Catskill
Mountains, the twelve tribes of the East had been more than usually
active in prosecuting their subtle scheme for the subjugation of the Nieuw
Nederlands.
Independent of the incessant maraudings among hen-roosts and squattings
along the border, invading armies would penetrate, from time to time, into
the very heart of the country. As their prototypes of yore went forth into
the land of Canaan, with their wives and their children, their
men-servants and their maid-servants, their flocks and herds, to settle
themselves down in the land and possess it; so these chosen people of
modern days would progress through the country in patriarchal style,
conducting carts and waggons laden with household furniture, with women
and children piled on top, and pots and kettles dangling beneath. At the
tail of these vehicles would stalk a crew of long-limbed, lank-sided
varlets with axes on their shoulders, and packs on their backs, resolutely
bent upon "locating" themselves, as they termed it, and improving the
country. These were the most dangerous kind of invaders. It is true they
were guilty of no overt acts of hostility; but it was notorious that,
wherever they got a footing, the honest Dutchmen gradually disappeared,
retiring slowly as do the Indians before the white men; being in some way
or other talked and chaffered, and bargained and swapped, and, in plain
English, elbowed out of all those rich bottoms and fertile nooks in which
our Dutch yeomanry are prone to nestle themselves.
Peter Stuyvesant was at length roused to this kind of war in disguise, by
which the Yankees were craftily aiming to subjugate his dominions.
He was a man easily taken in, it is true, as all great-hearted men are apt
to be; but if he once found it out, his wrath was terrible. He now threw
diplomacy to the dogs, determined to appear no more by ambassadors, but to
repair in person to the great council of the Amphictyons, bearing the
sword in one hand and the olive-branch in the other, and giving them
their choice of sincere and honest peace, or open and iron war.
His privy council were astonished and dismayed when he announced his
determination. For once they ventured to remonstrate, setting forth the
rashness of venturing his sacred person in the midst of a strange and
barbarous people. They might as well have tried to turn a rusty
weathercock with a broken-winded bellows. In the fiery heart of the
iron-headed Peter sat enthroned the five kinds of courage described by
Aristotle, and had the philosopher enumerated five hundred more, I verily
believed he would have possessed them all. As to that better part of valor
called discretion, it was too cold-blooded a virtue for his tropical
temperament.
Summoning, therefore, to his presence his trusty follower, Antony Van
Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself in readiness to accompany him
the following morning on this his hazardous enterprise.
Now Antony the Trumpeter was by this time a little stricken in years, yet
by dint of keeping up a good heart, and having never known care or sorrow
(having never been married), he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicund,
gamesome wag, and of great capacity in the doublet. This last was ascribed
to his living a jolly life on those domains at the Hook, which Peter
Stuyvesant had granted to him for his gallantry at Fort Casimir.
Be this as it may, there was nothing that more delighted Antony than this
command of the great Peter, for he could have followed the stout-hearted
old governor to the world's end, with love and loyalty--and he moreover
still remembered the frolicing, and dancing, and bundling, and other
disports of the east country, and entertained dainty recollections of
numerous kind and buxom lasses, whom he longed exceedingly again to
encounter.
Thus then did this mirror of hardihood set forth, with no other attendant
but his trumpeter, upon one of the most perilous enterprises ever
recorded in the annals of knight-errantry. For a single warrior to venture
openly among a whole nation of foes--but, above all, for a plain,
downright Dutchman to think of negotiating with the whole council of New
England!--never was there known a more desperate undertaking! Ever since I
have entered upon the chronicles of this peerless, but hitherto
uncelebrated, chieftain, has he kept me in a state of incessant action and
anxiety with the toils and dangers he is constantly encountering. Oh, for
a chapter of the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, that I might repose
on it as on a feather-bed!
Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once already rescued thee
from the machinations of these terrible Amphictyons, by bringing the
powers of witchcraft to thine aid? Is it not enough that I have followed
thee undaunted, like a guardian spirit, into the midst of the horrid
battle of Fort Christina? That I have been put incessantly to my trumps to
keep them safe and sound--now warding off with my single pen the shower of
dastard blows that fell upon thy rear--now narrowly shielding thee from a
deadly thrust by a mere tobacco-box--now casing thy dauntless skull with
adamant, when even thy stubborn ram beaver failed to resist the sword of
the stout Risingh--and now, not merely bringing thee off alive, but
triumphant, from the clutches of the gigantic Swede, by the desperate
means of a paltry stone pottle? Is not all this enough, but must thou
still be plunging into new difficulties, and hazarding in headlong
enterprises thyself, thy trumpeter, and thy historian?
And now the ruddy-faced Aurora, like a buxom chambermaid, draws aside the
sable curtains of the night, and out bounces from his bed the jolly
red-haired Phoebus, startled at being caught so late in the embraces of
Dame Thetis. With many a stable-boy oath he harnesses his brazen-footed
steeds, and whips, and lashes, and splashes up the firmament, like a
loitering coachman, half-an-hour behind his time. And now behold that imp
of fame and prowess, the headstrong Peter, bestriding a raw-boned,
switch-tailed charger, gallantly arrayed in full regimentals, and bracing
on his thigh that trusty, brass-hilted sword, which had wrought such
fearful deeds on the banks of the Delaware.
Behold hard after him his doughty trumpeter, Van Corlear, mounted on a
broken-winded, walleyed, calico mare; his stone pottle, which had laid low
the mighty Risingh, slung under his arm; and his trumpet displayed
vauntingly in his right hand, decorated with a gorgeous banner, on which
is emblazoned the great beaver of the Manhattoes. See them proudly issuing
out of the city gate, like an iron clad hero of yore, with his faithful
squire at his heels; the populace following with their eyes, and shouting
many a parting wish and hearty cheering, Farewell, Hardkoppig Piet!
Farewell, honest Antony! pleasant be your wayfaring, prosperous your
return!--the stoutest hero that ever drew a sword, and the worthiest
trumpeter that ever trod shoe-leather!
Legends are lamentably silent about the events that befell our adventurers
in this their adventurous travel, excepting the Stuyvesant manuscript,
which gives the substance of a pleasant little heroic poem, written on the
occasion by Dominie Ægidius Luyck,[58] who appears to have been the poet
laureate of New Amsterdam. This inestimable manuscript assures us that it
was a rare spectacle to behold the great Peter and his loyal follower
hailing the morning sun, and rejoicing in the clear countenance of Nature,
as they pranced it through the pastoral scenes of Bloemen Dael; which in
those days was a sweet and rural valley, beautiful with many a bright
wild flower, refreshed by many a pure streamlet, and enlivened here and
there by a delectable little Dutch cottage, sheltered under some sloping
hill, and almost buried in embowering trees.
Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecticut, where they
encountered many grievous difficulties and perils. At one place they were
assailed by a troop of country squires and militia colonels, who, mounted
on goodly steeds, hung upon their rear for several miles, harassing them
exceedingly with guesses and questions, more especially the worthy Peter,
whose silver-chased leg excited not a little marvel. At another place,
hard by the renowned town of Stamford, they were set upon by a great and
mighty legion of church deacons, who imperiously demanded of them five
shillings for traveling on Sunday, and threatened to carry them captive to
a neighboring church, whose steeple peered above the trees; but these the
valiant Peter put to rout with little difficulty, insomuch that they
bestrode their canes and galloped off in horrible confusion, leaving their
cocked hats behind in the hurry of their flight. But not so easily did he
escape from the hands of a crafty man of Pyquag; who, with undaunted
perseverance and repeated onsets, fairly bargained him out of his goodly
switch-tailed charger, leaving in place thereof a villainous, foundered
Narraganset pacer.
But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their journey cheerily along
the course of the soft flowing Connecticut, whose gentle waves, says the
song, roll through many a fertile vale and sunny plain; now reflecting the
lofty spires of the bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the
humble hamlet; now echoing with the busy hum of commerce, and now with the
cheerful song of the peasant.
At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was noted for warlike punctilio,
order the sturdy Antony to sound a courteous salutation; though the
manuscript observes that the inhabitants were thrown into great dismay
when they heard of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable
achievements on the Delaware had spread throughout the east country, and
they dreaded lest he had come to take vengeance on their manifold
transgressions.
But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smiling aspect, waving
his hand with inexpressible majesty and condescension; for he verily
believed that the old clothes which these ingenious people had thrust into
their broken windows, and the festoons of dried apples and peaches which
ornamented the fronts of their houses, were so many decorations in honor
of his approach, as it was the custom in the days of chivalry to
compliment renowned heroes by sumptuous displays of tapestry and gorgeous
furniture. The women crowded to the doors to gaze upon him as he passed,
so much does prowess in arms delight the gentler sex. The little children,
too, ran after him in troops, staring with wonder at his regimentals, his
brimstone breeches, and the silver garniture of his wooden leg. Nor must I
omit to mention the joy which many strapping wenches betrayed at beholding
the jovial Van Corlear, who had whilom delighted them so much with his
trumpet, when he bore the great Peter's challenge to the Amphictyons. The
kind-hearted Antony alighted from his calico mare, and kissed them all
with infinite loving kindness, and was right pleased to see a crew of
little trumpeters crowding round him for his blessing, each of whom he
patted on the head, bade him be a good boy, and gave him a penny to buy
molasses candy.
FOOTNOTES:
[58] This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin School in
Nieuw Nederlands, 1663. There are two pieces addressed to Ægidius
Luyck in D. Selyn's MSS. of poesies, upon his marriage with
Judith Isendoorn. (Old MSS.)