CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Preface
Christendom is gradually extricating itself from the ignorance,
ferocity, and crimes of the middle ages. It is no longer subject of
boast, that the hand which wields the sword, never held a pen, and men
have long since ceased to be ashamed of knowledge. The multiplied means
of imparting principles and facts, and a more general diffusion of
intelligence, have conduced to establish sounder ethics and juster
practices, throughout the whole civilized world. Thus, he who admits
the conviction, as hope declines with his years, that man deteriorates,
is probably as far from the truth, as the visionary who sees the dawn
of a golden age, in the commencement of the nineteenth century. That we
have greatly improved on the opinions and practices of our ancestors,
is quite as certain as that there will be occasion to meliorate the
legacy of morals which we shall transmit to posterity.
When the progress of civilization compelled Europe to correct the
violence and injustice which were so openly practised, until the art of
printing became known, the other hemisphere made America the scene of
those acts, which shame prevented her from exhibiting nearer home.
There was little of a lawless, mercenary, violent, and selfish nature,
that the self-styled masters of the continent hesitated to commit, when
removed from the immediate responsibilities of the society in which
they had been educated. The Drakes, Rogers’, and Dampiers of that day,
though enrolled in the list of naval heroes were no other than pirates,
acting under the sanction of commissions; and the scenes that occurred
among the marauders of the land, were often of a character to disgrace
human nature.
That the colonies which formed the root of this republic escaped the
more serious evils of a corruption so gross and so widely spread, can
only be ascribed to the characters of those by whom they were peopled.
Perhaps nine-tenths of all the white inhabitants of the Union are the
direct descendants of men who quitted Europe in order to worship God
according to conviction and conscience. If the Puritans of New-England,
the Friends of Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware, the Catholics of
Maryland, the Presbyterians of the upper counties of Virginia and of
the Carolinas, and the Huguenots, brought with them the exaggeration of
their peculiar sects, it was an exaggeration that tended to correct
most of their ordinary practices. Still the English Provinces were not
permitted, altogether, to escape from the moral dependency that seems
nearly inseparable from colonial government, or to be entirely exempt
from the wide contamination of the times.
The State of New-York, as is well known, was originally a colony of the
United Provinces. The settlement was made in the year 1613; and the
Dutch East India Company, under whose authority the establishment was
made, claimed the whole country between the Connecticut and the mouth
of Delaware-bay, a territory which, as it had a corresponding depth,
equalled the whole surface of the present kingdom of France. Of this
vast region, however, they never occupied but a narrow belt on each
side of the Hudson, with, here and there, a settlement on a few of the
river flats, more inland.
There is a providence in the destiny of nations, that sets at nought
the most profound of human calculations. Had the dominion of the Dutch
continued a century longer, there would have existed in the very heart
of the Union a people opposed to its establishment, by their language,
origin, and habits. The conquest of the English in 1663, though unjust
and iniquitous in itself, removed the danger, by opening the way for
the introduction of that great community of character which now so
happily prevails.
Though the English, the French, the Swedes, the Dutch, the Danes, the
Spaniards, and the Norwegians, all had colonies within the country
which now composes the United States, the people of the latter are more
homogeneous in character, language, and opinions, than those of any
other great nation that is familiarly known. This identity of character
is owing to the early predominance of the English, and to the
circumstance that New-England and Virginia, the two great sources of
internal emigration, were entirely of English origin. Still, New-York
retains, to the present hour, a variety of usages that were obtained
from Holland. Her edifices of painted bricks, her streets lined with
trees, her inconvenient and awkward stoops and a large proportion of
her names, are equally derived from the Dutch. Until the commencement
of this century, even the language of Holland prevailed in the streets
of the capital, and though a nation of singular boldness and
originality in all that relates to navigation, the greatest sea-port of
the country betrays many evidences of a taste which must be referred to
the same origin.
The reader will find in these facts a sufficient explanation of most of
the peculiar customs, and of some of the peculiar practices, that are
exhibited in the course of the following tale. Slavery, a divided
language, and a distinct people, are no longer to be found, within the
fair regions of New-York; and, without pretending to any peculiar
exemption from the weaknesses of humanity, it may be permitted us to
hope, that these are not the only features of the narrative, which a
better policy, and a more equitable administration of power, have made
purely historical.
Early released from the fetters of the middle ages, fetters that bound
the mind equally with the person, America has preceded rather than
followed Europe, in that march of improvement which is rendering the
present era so remarkable. Under a system, broad, liberal, and just as
hers, though she may have to contend with rivalries that are sustained
by a more concentrated competition, and which are as absurd by their
pretension of liberality as they are offensive by their monopolies,
there is nothing to fear, in the end. Her political motto should be
Justice, and her first and greatest care to see it administered to her
own citizens.
The reader is left to make the application.
The Water-Witch
CHAPTER I.
“What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
Or shall we on without apology.”
Romeo and Juliet.
The fine estuary which penetrates the American coast, between the
fortieth and forty-first degrees of latitude, is formed by the
confluence of the Hudson, the Hackensack, the Passaic, the Raritan, and
a multitude of smaller streams; all of which pour their tribute into
the ocean, within the space named. The islands of Nassau and Staten are
happily placed to exclude the tempests of the open sea, while the deep
and broad arms of the latter offer every desirable facility for foreign
trade and internal intercourse. To this fortunate disposition of land
and water, with a temperate climate, a central position, and an immense
interior, that is now penetrated, in every direction, either by
artificial or by natural streams, the city of New-York is indebted for
its extraordinary prosperity. Though not wanting in beauty, there are
many bays that surpass this in the charms of scenery; but it may be
questioned if the world possesses another site that unites so many
natural advantages for the growth and support of a widely extended
commerce. As if never wearied with her kindness, Nature has placed the
island of Manhattan at the precise point that is most desirable for the
position of a town. Millions might inhabit the spot, and yet a ship
should load near every door; and while the surface of the land just
possesses the inequalities that are required for health and
cleanliness, its bosom is filled with the material most needed in
construction.
The consequences of so unusual a concurrence of favorable
circumstances, are well known. A vigorous, healthful, and continued
growth, that has no parallel even in the history of this extraordinary
and fortunate country, has already raised the insignificant provincial
town of the last century to the level of the second-rate cities of the
other hemisphere. The New-Amsterdam of this continent already rivals
its parent of the other; and, so far as human powers may pretend to
predict, a few fleeting years will place her on a level with the
proudest capitals of Europe.
It would seem that, as Nature has given its periods to the stages of
animal life, it has also set limits to all moral and political
ascendency. While the city of the Medici is receding from its crumbling
walls, like the human form shrinking into “the lean and slipper’d
pantaloon,” the Queen of the Adriatic sleeping on her muddy isles, and
Rome itself is only to be traced by fallen temples and buried columns,
the youthful vigor of America is fast covering the wilds of the West
with the happiest fruits of human industry.
By the Manhattanese, who is familiar with the forest of masts, the
miles of wharves, the countless villas, the hundred churches, the
castles, the smoking and busy vessels that crowd his bay, the daily
increase and the general movement of his native town, the picture we
are about to sketch will scarcely be recognized. He who shall come a
generation later will probably smile, that subject of admiration should
have been found in the existing condition of the city: and yet we shall
attempt to carry the recollections of the reader but a century back, in
the brief history of his country.
As the sun rose on the morning of the 3d of June 171-, the report of a
cannon was heard rolling along the waters of the Hudson. Smoke issued
from an embrasure of a small fortress, that stood on the point of land
where the river and the bay mingle their waters. The explosion was
followed by the appearance of a flag, which, as it rose to the summit
of its staff and unfolded itself heavily in the light current of air,
showed the blue field and red cross of the English ensign. At the
distance of several miles, the dark masts of a ship were to be seen,
faintly relieved by the verdant background of the heights of Staten
Island. A little cloud floated over this object, and then an answering
signal came dull and rumbling to the town. The flag that the cruiser
set was not visible in the distance.
At the precise moment that the noise of the first gun was heard, the
door of one of the principal dwellings of the town opened, and a man,
who might have been its master, appeared on its stoop, as the
ill-arranged entrances of the buildings of the place are still termed.
He was seemingly prepared for some expedition that was likely to
consume the day. A black of middle age followed the burgher to the
threshold; and another negro, who had not yet reached the stature of
manhood, bore under his arm a small bundle, that probably contained
articles of the first necessity to the comfort of his master.
“Thrift, Mr. Euclid, thrift is your true philosopher’s stone;”
commenced, or rather continued in a rich full-mouthed Dutch, the
proprietor of the dwelling, who had evidently been giving a
leave-taking charge to his principal slave, before quitting the
house—“Thrift hath made many a man rich, but it never yet brought any
one to want. It is thrift which has built up the credit of my house,
and, though it is said by myself, a broader back and firmer base
belongs to no merchant in the colonies. You are but the reflection of
your master’s prosperity, you rogue, and so much the greater need that
you took to his interests. If the substance is wasted, what will become
of the shadow? When I get delicate, you will sicken: when I am
a-hungered, you will be famished; when I die, you may be—ahem—Euclid. I
leave thee in charge with goods and chattels, house and stable, with my
character in the neighborhood. I am going to the Lust in Rust, for a
mouthful of better air. Plague and fevers! I believe the people will
continue to come into this crowded town, until it gets to be as
pestilent as Rotterdam in the dog-days. You have now come to years when
a man obtains his reflection, boy, and I expect suitable care and
discretion about the premises, while my back is turned. Now, harkee,
sirrah: I am not entirely pleased with the character of thy company. It
is not altogether as respectable as becomes the confidential servant of
a man of a certain station in the world. There are thy two cousins,
Brom and Kobus, who are no better than a couple of blackguards; and as
for the English negro, Diomede—he is a devil’s imp! Thou hast the other
locks at disposal, and,” drawing with visible reluctance the instrument
from his pocket, “here is the key of the stable. Not a hoof is to quit
it, but to go to the pump—and see that each animal has its food to a
minute. The devil’s roysterers! a Manhattan negro takes a Flemish
gelding for a gaunt hound that is never out of breath, and away he
goes, at night, scampering along the highways like a Yankee witch
switching through the air on a broomstick—but mark me, master Euclid, I
have eyes in my head, as thou knowest by bitter experience! D’ye
remember, ragamuffin, the time when I saw thee, from the Hague, riding
the beasts, as if the devil spurred them, along the dykes of Leyden,
without remorse as without leave?”
“I alway b’rieve some make-mischief tell Masser dat time;” returned the
negro sulkily, though not without doubt.
“His own eyes were the tell-tales. If masters had no eyes, a pretty
world would the negroes make of it! I have got the measure of every
black heel, on the island, registered in the big book, you see me so
often looking into, especially on Sundays; and, if either of the
tire-legs I have named dares to enter my grounds, let him expect to pay
a visit to the city Provost. What do the wild-cats mean? Do they think
that the geldings were bought in Holland, with charges for breaking in,
shipment, insurance, freight, and risk of diseases, to have their flesh
melted from their ribs like a cook’s candle?”
“Ere no’tin’ done in all ’e island, but a color’ man do him! He do a
mischief, and he do all a work, too! I won’er what color Masser t’ink
war’ Captain Kidd?”
“Black or white, he was a rank rogue; and you see the end he came to. I
warrant you, now, that water-thief began his iniquities by riding the
neighbors’ horses, at night. His fate should be a warning to every
negro in the colony. The imps of darkness! The English have no such
scarcity of rogues at home, that they could not spare us the pirate to
hang up on one of the islands, as a scarecrow to the blacks of
Manhattan.”
“Well, I t’ink ’e sight do a white man some good, too;” returned
Euclid, who had all the pertinacity of a spoiled Dutch negro,
singularly blended with affection for him in whose service he had been
born. “I hear ebbery body say, ’ere war’ but two color’ man in he ship,
and ’em bot’ war’ Guinea-born.”
“A modest tongue, thou midnight scamperer! look to my
geldings—Here—here are two Dutch florins, three stivers, and a Spanish
pistareen for thee; one of the florins is for thy old mother, and with
the others thou canst lighten thy heart in the Paus merrymakings—if I
hear that either of thy rascally cousins, or the English Diomede, has
put a leg across beast of mine, it will be the worse for all Africa!
Famine and skeletons! here have I been seven years trying to fatten the
nags, and they still look more like weasels than a pair of solid
geldings.”
The close of this speech was rather muttered in the distance, and by
way of soliloquy, than actually administered to the namesake of the
great mathematician. The air of the negro had been a little equivocal,
during the parting admonition. There was an evident struggle, in his
mind, between an innate love of disobedience, and a secret dread of his
master’s means of information. So long as the latter continued in
sight, the black watched his form in doubt; and when it had turned a
corner, he stood at gaze, for a moment, with a negro on a neighboring
stoop; then both shook their heads significantly, laughed aloud, and
retired. That night, the confidential servant attended to the interests
of his absent master, with a fidelity and care which proved he felt his
own existence identified with that of a man who claimed so close a
right in his person; and just as the clock struck ten, he and the negro
last mentioned mounted the sluggish and over-fattened horses, and
galloped, as hard as foot could be laid to the earth, several miles
deeper into the island, to attend a frolic at one of the usual haunts
of the people of their color and condition.
Had Alderman Myndert Van Beverout suspected the calamity which was so
soon to succeed his absence, it is probable that his mien would have
been less composed, as he pursued his way from his own door, on the
occasion named. That he had confidence in the virtue of his menaces,
however, may be inferred from the tranquillity which immediately took
possession of features that were never disturbed, without wearing an
appearance of unnatural effort. The substantial burgher was a little
turned of fifty: and an English wag, who had imported from the mother
country a love for the humor of his nation, had once, in a conflict of
wits before the city council, described him to be a man of
alliterations. When called upon to explain away this breach of
parliamentary decorum, the punster had gotten rid of the matter, by
describing his opponent to be “short, solid and sturdy, in stature;
full, flushed and funny, in face; and proud, ponderous and pragmatical,
in propensities.” But, as is usual, in all sayings of effort there was
more smartness than truth in this description; though, after making a
trifling allowance for the coloring of political rivalry, the reader
may receive its physical portion as sufficiently descriptive to answer
all the necessary purposes of this tale. If we add, that he was a
trader of great wealth and shrewdness, and a bachelor, we need say no
more in this stage of the narrative.
Notwithstanding the early hour at which this industrious and
flourishing merchant quitted his abode, his movement along the narrow
streets of his native town was measured and dignified. More than once,
he stopped to speak to some favorite family-servant, invariably
terminating his inquiries after the health of the master, by some
facetious observation adapted to the habits and capacity of the slave.
From this, it would seem, that, while he had so exaggerated notions of
domestic discipline, the worthy burgher was far from being one who
indulged, by inclination, in the menaces he has been heard to utter. He
had just dismissed one of these loitering negroes, when, on turning a
corner, a man of his own color, for the first time that morning,
suddenly stood before him. The startled citizen made an involuntary
movement to avoid the unexpected interview, and then, perceiving the
difficulty of such a step, he submitted, with as good a grace as if it
had been one of his own seeking.
“The orb of day—the morning gun—and Mr Alderman Van Beverout!”
exclaimed the individual encountered. “Such is the order of events, at
this early hour, on each successive revolution of our earth.”
The countenance of the Alderman had barely time to recover its
composure, ere he was required to answer to this free and somewhat
facetious salutation. Uncovering his head, he bowed so ceremoniously as
to leave the other no reason to exult in his pleasantry, as he
answered—
“The colony has reason to regret the services of a governor who can
quit his bed so soon. That we of business habits stir betimes, is quite
in reason; but there are those in this town, who would scarce believe
their eyes did they enjoy my present happiness.”
“Sir, there are many in this colony who have great reason to distrust
their senses, though none can be mistaken in believing they see
Alderman Van Beverout in a well-employed man. He that dealeth in the
produce of the beaver must have the animal’s perseverance and
forethought! Now, were I a king-at-arms, there should be a concession
made in thy favor, Myndert, of a shield bearing the animal mordant, a
mantle of fur, with two Mohawk hunters for supporters, and the motto,
‘Industry.’”
“Or what think you, my Lord,” returned the other, who did not more than
half relish the pleasantry of his companion, “of a spotless shield for
a clear conscience, with an open hand for a crest, and the motto,
‘Frugality and Justice?’”
“I like the open hand, though the conceit is pretending. I see you
would intimate that the Van Beverouts have not need, at this late day,
to search a herald’s office for honors. I remember, now I bethink me,
on some occasion to have seen their bearings; a windmill, courant;
dyke, coulant; field, vert, sprinkled with black cattle—No! then,
memory is treacherous; the morning air is pregnant with food for the
imagination!”
“Which is not a coin to satisfy a creditor, my Lord,” said the caustic
Myndert.
“Therein has truth been, pithily, spoken. This is an ill-judged step,
Alderman Van Beverout, that lets a gentleman out by night, like the
ghost in Hamlet, to flee into the narrow house with the crowing of the
cock. The ear of my royal cousin hath been poisoned, worse than was the
ear of ‘murdered Denmark,’ or the partisans of this Mister Hunter would
have little cause to triumph.”
“Is it not possible to give such pledges to those who have turned the
key, as will enable your lordship to apply the antidote.”
The question struck a chord that changed the whole manner of the other.
His air, which had borne the character of a genteel trifler, became
more grave and dignified; and notwithstanding there was the evidence of
a reckless disposition in his features, dress and carriage, his tall
and not ungraceful form, as he walked slowly onward, by the side of the
compact Alderman, was not without much of that insinuating ease and
blandishment, which long familiarity with good company can give even to
the lowest moral worth.
“Your question, worthy sir, manifests great goodness of heart, and
corroborates that reputation for generosity, the world so freely gives.
It is true that the Queen has been persuaded to sign the mandate of my
recall, and it is certain that Mr. Hunter has the government of the
colony; but these are facts that might be reversed, were I once in a
position to approach my kinswoman. I do not disclaim certain
indiscretions, sir; it would ill become me to deny them, in presence of
one whose virtue is as severe as that of Alderman Van Beverout. I have
my failings; perhaps, as you have just been pleased to intimate, it
would have been better had my motto been frugality; but the open hand,
dear sir, is a part of the design you will not deny me, either. If I
have weaknesses, my enemies cannot refuse to say that I never yet
deserted a friend.”
“Not having had occasion to tax your friendship, I shall not be the
first to make the charge.
“Your impartiality has come to be a proverb! ‘As honest as Alderman Van
Beverout;’ ‘as generous as Alderman Van Beverout,’ are terms in each
man’s mouth; some say ‘as rich;’ (the small blue eye of the burgher
twinkled.) But honesty, and riches, and generosity, are of little
value, without influence. Men should have their natural consideration
in society. Now is this colony rather Dutch than English, and yet, you
see, how few names are found in the list of the Council, that have been
known in the province half a century! Here are your Alexanders and
Heathcotes, your Morris’s and Kennedies, de Lanceys and Livingstons,
filling the Council and the legislative halls; but we find few of the
Van Rensselaers, Van Courtlandts, Van Schuylers, Stuyvesants, Van
Beekmans, and Van Beverouts, in their natural stations. All nations and
religions have precedency, in the royal favor, over the children of the
Patriarchs. The Bohemian Felipses; the Huguenot de Lanceys, and
Bayards, and Jays; the King-hating Morrises and Ludlows—in short, all
have greater estimation in the eyes of government, than the most
ancient Patroon!”
“This has long and truly been the case. I cannot remember when it was
otherwise!”
“It may not be denied. But it would little become political discretion
to affect precipitancy in the judgment of character. If my own
administration can be stigmatized with the same apparent prejudice, it
proves the clearer how strong is misrepresentation at home. Time was
wanting to enlighten my mind and that time has been refused me. In
another year, my worthy sir, the Council should have been filled with
Van’s!”
“In such a case, my Lord, the unhappy condition in which you are now
placed might indeed have been avoided.”
“Is it too late to arrest the evil? It is time Anne had been
undeceived, and her mind regained. There wanteth nothing to such a
consummation of justice, sir, but opportunity. It touches me to the
heart, to think that this disgrace should befall one so near the royal
blood! ’Tis a spot on the escutcheon of the crown, that all loyal
subjects must feel desirous to efface, and so small an effort would
effect the object, too, with certain—Mr. Alderman Myndert Van
Beverout——?”
“My Lord, late Governor,” returned the other, observing that his
companion hesitated.
“What think you of this Hanoverian settlement?—Shall a German wear the
crown of a Plantagenet?”
“It hath been worn by a Hollander.”
“Aptly answered! Worn, and worn worthily! There is affinity between the
people, and there is reason in that reply. How have I failed in wisdom,
in not seeking earlier the aid of thy advice, excellent sir! Ah,
Myndert, there is a blessing on the enterprises of all who come of the
Low Countries!”
“They are industrious to earn, and slow to squander.”
“That expenditure is the ruin of many a worthy subject! And yet
accident—chance—fortune—or whatever you may choose to call it,
interferes nefariously, at times, with a gentleman’s prosperity. I am
an adorer of constancy in friendship, sir, and hold the principle that
men should aid each other through this dark vale of life—Mr. Alderman
Van Beverout——?”
“My Lord Cornbury?”
“I was about to say, that should I quit the Province, without
expressing part of the regret I feel, at not having sooner ascertained
the merits of its original owners, and your own in particular, I should
do injustice to sensibilities, that are only too acute for the peace of
him who endures them.”
“Is there then hope that your lordship’s creditors will relent, or has
the Earl furnished means to open the prison-door?”
“You use the pleasantest terms, sir!—but I love directness of language,
above all other qualities. No doubt the prison-door, as you have so
clearly expressed it, might be opened, and lucky would be the man who
should turn the key. I am pained when I think of the displeasure of the
Queen, which, sooner or later, will surely visit my luckless
persecutors. On the other hand, I find relief in thinking of the favor
she will extend to those who have proved my friends, in such a strait.
They that wear crowns love not to see disgrace befall the meanest of
their blood, for something of the taint may sully even the ermine of
Majesty.—Mr. Alderman——!”
“My Lord?”
“—How fare the Flemish geldings?”
“Bravely, and many thanks, my Lord; the rogues are fat as butter! There
is hope of a little rest for the innocents, since business calls me to
the Lust in Rust. There should be a law, Lord Governor, to gibbet the
black that rides a beast at night.”
“I bethought of some condign punishment for so heartless a crime, but
there is little hope for it under the administration of this Mr.
Hunter. Yes, sir; were I once more in the presence of my royal cousin,
there would quickly be an end to this delusion, and the colony should
be once more restored to a healthful state. The men of a generation
should cease to lord it over the men of a century. But we must be wary
of letting our design, my dear sir, get wind: it is a truly Dutch idea,
and the profits, both pecuniary and political, should belong to the
gentlemen of that descent—My dear Van Beverout—?”
“My good Lord?”
“Is the blooming Alida obedient? Trust me, there has no family event
occurred, during my residence in the colony, in which I have taken a
nearer interest, than in that desirable connexion. The wooing of the
young Patroon of Kinderhook is an affair of concern to the province. It
is a meritorious youth!”
“With an excellent estate, my Lord!”
“And a gravity beyond his years.”
“I would give a guarantee, at a risk, that two-thirds of his income
goes to increase the capital, at the beginning of each season!”
“He seems a man to live on air!”
“My old friend, the last Patroon, left noble assets,” continued the
Alderman, rubbing his hands; “besides the manor.”
“Which is no paddock!”
“It reaches from the Hudson to the line of Massachusetts. A hundred
thousand acres of hill and bottom, and well peopled by frugal
Hollanders.”
“Respectable in possession, and a mine of gold in reversion! Such men,
sir, should be cherished. We owe it to his station to admit him to a
share of this, our project to undeceive the Queen. How superior are the
claims of such a gentleman to the empty pretensions of your Captain
Ludlow!”
“He has truly a very good and an improving estate!”
“These Ludlows, sir, people that fled the realm for plotting against
the crown, are offensive to a loyal subject. Indeed, too much of this
objection may be imputed to many in the province, that come of English
blood. I am sorry to say, that they are fomenters of discord,
disturbers of the public mind, and captious disputants about
prerogatives and vested rights. But there is a repose in the Dutch
character which lends it dignity! The descendants of the Hollanders are
men to be counted on; where we leave them to-day, we see them
to-morrow. As we say in politics, sir, we know where to find them. Does
it not seem to you particularly offensive that this Captain Ludlow
should command the only royal cruiser on the station?”
“I should like it better, my Lord, were he to serve in Europe,”
returned the Alderman, glancing a look behind him, and lowering his
voice. “There was lately a rumor that his ship was in truth to be sent
among the islands.”
“Matters are getting very wrong, most worthy sir; and the greater the
necessity there should be one at court to undeceive the Queen.
Innovators should be made to give way to men whose names are
historical, in the colony.”
“’Twould be no worse for Her Majesty’s credit.”
“’Twould be another jewel in her crown! Should this Captain Ludlow
actually marry your niece, the family would altogether change its
character—I have the worst memory—thy mother, Myndert, was a—a—”
“The pious woman was a Van Busser.”
“The union of thy sister with the Huguenot then reduces the fair Alida
to the quality of a half-blood. The Ludlow connexion would destroy the
leaven of the race! I think the man is penniless!”
“I cannot say that, my Lord, for I would not willingly injure the
credit of my worst enemy; but, though wealthy, he is far from having
the estate of the young Patroon of Kinderhook.”
“He should indeed be sent into the Indies—Myndert—?”
“My Lord?”
“It would be unjust to my sentiments in favor of Mr. Oloff Van Staats,
were we to exclude him from the advantages of our project. This much
shall I exact from your friendship, in his favor; the necessary sum may
be divided, in moieties, between you; a common bond shall render the
affair compact; and then, as we shall be masters of our own secret,
there can be little doubt of the prudence of our measures. The amount
is written in this bit of paper.”
“Two thousand pounds, my Lord!”
“Pardon me, dear sir; not a penny more than one for each of you.
Justice to Van Staats requires that you let him into the affair. Were
it not for the suit with your niece, I should take the young gentleman
with me, to push his fortunes at court.”
“Truly, my Lord, this greatly exceeds my means. The high prices of furs
the past season, and delays in returns have placed a seal upon our
silver—”
“The premium would be high.”
“Coin is getting so scarce, daily, that the face of a Carolus is almost
as great a stranger, as the face of a debtor—”
“The returns certain.”
“While one’s creditors meet him, at every corner—”
“The concern would be altogether Dutch.”
“And last advices from Holland tell us to reserve our gold, for some
extraordinary movements in the commercial world.”
“Mr. Alderman Myndert Van Beverout!”
“My Lord Viscount Cornbury—”
“Plutus preserve thee, sir—but have a care! though I scent the morning
air, and must return, it is not forbid to tell the secrets of my
prison-house. There is one, in yonder cage, who whispers that the
‘Skimmer of the Seas’ is on the coast! Be wary, worthy burgher, or the
second part of the tragedy of Kidd may yet be enacted in these seas.”
“I leave such transactions to my superiors,” retorted the Alderman,
with another stiff and ceremonious bow. “Enterprises that are said to
have occupied the Earl of Bellamont, Governor Fletcher, and my Lord
Cornbury, are above the ambition of an humble merchant.”
“Adieu, tenacious sir; quiet thine impatience for the extraordinary
Dutch movements!” said Cornbury, affecting to laugh, though he secretly
felt the sting the other had applied, since common report implicated
not only him, but his two official predecessors, in several of the
lawless proceedings of the American Buccaneers: “Be vigilant, or la
demoiselle Barbérie will give another cross to the purity of the
stagnant pool!”
The bows that were exchanged were strictly in character. The Alderman
was unmoved, rigid, and formal, while his companion could not forget
his ease of manner, even at a moment of so much vexation. Foiled in an
effort, that nothing but his desperate condition, and nearly desperate
character, could have induced him to attempt, the degenerate descendant
of the virtuous Clarendon walked towards his place of confinement, with
the step of one who assumed a superiority over his fellows, and yet
with a mind so indurated by habitual depravity, as to have left it
scarcely the trace of a dignified or virtuous quality.