Thus then have I concluded this great historical enterprise; but before I
lay aside my weary pen, there yet remains to be performed one pious duty.
If, among the variety of readers who may peruse this book, there should
haply be found any of those souls of true nobility, which glow with
celestial fire at the history of the generous and the brave, they will
doubtless be anxious to know the fate of the gallant Peter Stuyvesant. To
gratify one such sterling heart of gold, I would go more lengths than to
instruct the cold-blooded curiosity of a whole fraternity of philosophers.
No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the articles of
capitulation, than, determined not to witness the humiliation of his
favorite city, he turned his back on its walls, and made a growling
retreat to his bowery, or country seat, which was situated about two miles
off; where he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal retirement.
There he enjoyed that tranquillity of mind which he had never known amid
the distracting cares of government, and tasted the sweets of absolute and
uncontrolled authority, which his factious subjects had so often dashed
with the bitterness of opposition.
No persuasion should ever induce him to revisit the city; on the contrary,
he would always have his great arm-chair placed with its back to the
windows which looked in that direction, until a thick grove of trees,
planted by his own hand, grew up and formed a screen that effectually
excluded it from the prospect. He railed continually at the degenerate
innovations and improvements introduced by the conquerors--forbade a word
of their detested language to be spoken in his family, a prohibition
readily obeyed, since none of the household could speak anything but
Dutch, and even ordered a fine avenue to be cut down in front of his house
because it consisted of English cherry trees.
The same incessant vigilance, which blazed forth when he had a vast
province under his care, now showed itself with equal vigor, though in
narrower limits. He patroled with unceasing watchfulness the boundaries of
his little territory, repelled every encroachment with intrepid
promptness: punished every vagrant depredation upon his orchard or his
farmyard with inflexible severity, and conducted every stray hog or cow in
triumph to the pound. But to the indigent neighbor, the friendless
stranger, or the weary wanderer, his spacious doors were ever open, and
his capacious fireplace, that emblem of his own warm and generous heart,
had always a corner to receive and cherish them. There was an exception to
this, I must confess, in case the ill-starred applicant were an
Englishman or a Yankee; to whom, though he might extend the hand of
assistance, he could never be brought to yield the rites of hospitality.
Nay, if peradventure some straggling merchant of the East should stop at
his door, with his cart-load of tinware or wooden bowls, the fiery Peter
would issue forth like a giant from his castle, and make such a furious
clattering among his pots and kettles, that the vender of "notions" was
fain to betake himself to instant flight.
His suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by the brush, was carefully hung
up in the state bedchamber, and regularly aired the first fair day of
every month, and his cocked hat and trusty sword were suspended in grim
repose over the parlor mantelpiece, forming supporters to a full-length
portrait of the renowned admiral Van Tromp. In his domestic empire he
maintained strict discipline, and a well organized despotic government;
but though his own will was the supreme law, yet the good of his subjects
was his constant object. He watched over not merely their immediate
comforts, but their morals and their ultimate welfare; for he gave them
abundance of excellent admonition; nor could any of them complain, that,
when occasion required, he was by any means niggardly in bestowing
wholesome correction.
The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demonstrations of an
overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, which are falling into sad disuse
among my fellow citizens, were faithfully observed in the mansion of
Governor Stuyvesant. New year was truly a day of open-handed liberality,
of jocund revelry and warm-hearted congratulation, when the bosom swelled
with genial good-fellowship, and the plenteous table was attended with an
unceremonious freedom and honest broad-mouthed merriment unknown in these
days of degeneracy and refinement. Paas and Pinxter were scrupulously
observed throughout his dominions; nor was the day of St. Nicholas
suffered to pass by without making presents, hanging the stocking in the
chimney, and complying with all its other ceremonies.
Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array himself in full
regimentals, being the anniversary of his triumphal entry into New
Amsterdam, after the conquest of New Sweden. This was always a kind of
saturnalia among the domestics, when they considered themselves at
liberty, in some measure, to say and do what they pleased, for on this day
their master was always observed to unbend and become exceedingly pleasant
and jocose, sending the old gray-headed negroes on April-fool's errands
for pigeons' milk; not one of whom but allowed himself to be taken in, and
humored his old master's jokes, as became a faithful and well disciplined
dependent. Thus did he reign, happily and peacefully on his own land,
injuring no man, envying no man, molested by no outward strifes, perplexed
by no internal commotions; and the mighty monarchs of the earth, who were
vainly seeking to maintain peace, and promote the welfare of mankind by
war and desolation, would have done well to have made a voyage to the
little island of Manna-hata, and learned a lesson in government from the
domestic economy of Peter Stuyvesant.
In process of time, however, the old governor, like all other children of
mortality, began to exhibit evident tokens of decay. Like an aged oak,
which, though it long has braved the fury of the elements, and still
retains its gigantic proportions, begins to shake and groan, with every
blast--so was it with the gallant Peter; for though he still bore the port
and semblance of what he was in the days of his hardihood and chivalry,
yet did age and infirmity begin to sap the vigor of his frame--but his
heart, that unconquerable citadel, still triumphed unsubdued. With
matchless avidity would he listen to every article of intelligence
concerning the battles between the English and Dutch; still would his
pulse beat high, whenever he heard of the victories of De Ruyter--and his
countenance lower, and his eyebrows knit, when fortune turned in favor of
the English. At length, as on a certain day he had just smoke his fifth
pipe, and was napping after dinner in his arm-chair, conquering the whole
British nation in his dreams, he was suddenly aroused by a ringing of
bells, rattling of drums, and roaring of cannon, that put all his blood in
a ferment. But when he learnt that these rejoicings were in honor of a
great victory obtained by the combined English and French fleets over the
brave De Ruyter and the younger Van Tromp, it went so much to his heart
that he took to his bed, and in less than three days was brought to
death's door by a violent cholera morbus! Even in this extremity he still
displayed the unconquerable sprit of Peter the Headstrong--holding out to
the last gasp with inflexible obstinacy against a whole army of old women,
who were bent upon driving the enemy out of his bowels, in the true Dutch
mode of defense, by inundation.
While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, news was brought
him that the brave De Ruyter had made good his retreat with little loss,
and meant once more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye of the
old warrior kindled with martial fire at the words. He partly raised
himself in bed, clinched his withered hand as if he felt within his gripe
that sword which waved in triumph before the walls of Port Christina, and
giving a grim smile of exultation, sank back upon his pillow, and expired.
Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier, a loyal subject, an upright
governor, and an honest Dutchman, who wanted only a few empires to
desolate to have been immortalized as a hero!
His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the utmost grandeur and
solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied of its inhabitants, who crowded
in throngs to pay the last sad honors to their good old governor. All his
sterling qualities rushed in full tide upon their recollection, while the
memory of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. The ancient
burghers contended who should have the privilege of bearing the pall; the
populace strove who should walk nearest to the bier, and the melancholy
procession was closed by a number of gray-bearded negroes, who had
wintered and summered in the household of their departed master for the
greater part of a century.
With sad and gloomy countenances the multitude gathered round the grave.
They dwelt with mournful hearts on the sturdy virtues, the signal
services, and the gallant exploits of the brave old worthy. They recalled,
with secret upbraiding, their own factious oppositions to his government;
and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic features had never been
known to relax, nor his eyes to moisten, was now observed to puff a
pensive pipe, and the big drop to steal down his cheek; while he muttered,
with affectionate accent, and melancholy shake of the head, "Well,
den!--Hardkoppig Peter ben gone at last!"
His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a chapel which he
had piously erected on his estate, and dedicated to St. Nicholas, and
which stood on the identical spot at present occupied by St. Mark's
church, where his tombstone is still to be seen. His estate, or bowery, as
it was called, has ever continued in the possession of his descendants,
who, by the uniform integrity of their conduct, and their strict adherence
to the customs and manners that prevailed in the "good old times," have
proved themselves worthy of their illustrious ancestor. Many a time and
oft has the farm been haunted at night by enterprising money-diggers, in
quest of pots of gold, said to have been buried by the old governor,
though I cannot learn that any of them have ever been enriched by their
researches; and who is there, among my native-born fellow-citizens, that
does not remember when, in the mischievous days of his boyhood, he
conceived it a great exploit to rob "Stuyvesant's orchard" on a holiday
afternoon?
At this stronghold of the family may still be seen certain memorials of
the immortal Peter. His full-length portrait frowns in martial terrors
from the parlor wall, his cocked hat and sword still hang up in the best
bed-room; his brimstone-colored breeches were for a long while suspended
in the hall, until some years since they occasioned a dispute between a
new-married couple; and his silver-mounted wooden leg is still treasured
up in the store-room as an invaluable relique.