The Epic of New York City (7 page)

Eleven Algonquin tribes rose in wrath and war paint, took up hatchets, and did their ferocious best to wipe the white man off the face of the earth. The Dutch were unprepared for war. There was only about half a pound of gunpowder per colonist, and Kieft hadn't even bothered to warn outlying settlers that he planned to massacre the Indians. Peaceful Dutch farmers were surprised in their fields by the attacking redskins. Their cattle were killed; their homes, destroyed;
their women and children, cut down or carried into captivity. The sturdy Dutch put up a good fight, but scores were felled with tomahawks buried in their skulls. Those lucky enough to escape the first onslaught fled from their farms to the fort. Many abandoned the colony itself and sailed for Holland on the first available ships.

The fate of the entire Dutch province hung in the balance. From the Raritan River, in New Jersey, to the Connecticut River, in Connecticut, the Indians ravaged the countryside, burning, killing, and scalping. Long Island, Westchester, and Manhattan were laid waste. Soon only three farms on Manhattan and two on Staten Island remained untouched. Settlers could find safety nowhere except near Fort Amsterdam, and even there conditions were desperate.

The Indians had a combined force of about 1,500 warriors. All Manhattan male colonists were enrolled as soldiers, but no more than 200 were capable of bearing arms. About 50 or 60 Englishmen were pressed into service to prevent them from leaving the colony. Dutchmen denounced Kieft for provoking this pointless war, and he almost collapsed in terror. He tried unsuccessfully to pin the blame on his advisers. In desperation he begged the people to elect another representative body. They chose the Eight Men.

Because the fort was utterly defenseless, the Dutch erected a palisade along the present Wall Street—although this was not the one that gave the street its name. Food was so scarce that the colonists faced starvation. They appealed for help to the English at the colony of New Haven, only to be told, “We are not satisfied that your war with the Indians is just.” The Amsterdam chamber of the Dutch West India Company was angry because Kieft had been ordered to avoid an open break with the natives; it too was slow in sending aid.

Fortunately for the Dutch, the Indians seemed unable to mount an unremitting siege on the fort but limited themselves to hit-and-run raids. The Dutch also were lucky enough to find an able leader. An Englishman, named Captain John Underhill, arrived here at the critical moment. Underhill was an expert Indian fighter, who had taken part in the war against the Pequot tribe in Connecticut. He brought fifty English soldiers and settlers to New Amsterdam, was guaranteed payment for his services, and then decided to strike the enemy an annihilating blow.

The biggest Indian stronghold was a village in the rugged country north of Stamford, Connecticut. Captain Underhill embarked from Manhattan in 3 yachts, which carried his own small force and the
130 to 150 Dutch soldiers finally sent here from Holland. The combined body landed at Greenwich, marched a full day, and then fell on the Indian settlement one winter's night. Before daybreak the battle was over. That ghastly night of the full moon 8 Indians escaped; the snow was reddened by the bloody corpses of 700 tribesmen. Underhill's small army lost only 15 men.

After this overwhelming victory, Dutch forces sallied forth from Fort Amsterdam, invaded Westchester County, and killed 500 more redskins. The Indians sued for peace, and a treaty was signed on August 29,1645.

During this Indian war the Dutch colonists had lost much and suffered greatly. They blamed everything on Governor Kieft; both private individuals and the Eight Men complained about him to Holland. Kieft was summoned home to defend himself against charges of blundering and cowardice. On the return voyage the ship was sunk, and Kieft drowned. Then a grizzled warrior with a wooden leg stumped onto the scene.

Chapter 3

P
ETER
S
TUYVESANT
sat. The town elders stood. He kept his hat on. They took theirs off. It was a long time before he even condescended to notice them. This ominous scene took place on May 27, 1647, when Stuyvesant was inaugurated as the new director general of New Netherland.

At last, in a room tight with tension, he spoke: “I shall govern you as a father his children, for the advantage of the chartered West India Company, and these burghers, and this land.” Everyone noted the sequence of values. When Stuyvesant added that “every man should have justice done him,” the tension broke, and the people clapped until their palms reddened. Nonetheless, one observer reflected sourly
that the new governor was behaving like the czar of Russia. Some in the group analyzed the name Stuyvesant, a compound of the Dutch word
stuyven,
meaning to stir up, and the English
sand.
Would their new overlord stir up the sand, kick up dust?

Curious eyes scanned the face and figure of Peter Stuyvesant. Long locks of hair dangled on both sides of his swarthy cheeks. Frown lines cut deep into the bridge of his hawklike nose. He was clean-shaven and stubborn-chinned. For a fifty-five-year-old man he was well preserved. His sturdy soldier's body, a little above medium height, had weathered many a campaign. Faultlessly dressed in the height of Dutch fashion, Peter Stuyvesant wore a wide collar that spread over his velvet jacket like a white water lily. Ornamental slits in his jacket sleeves revealed full puffed shirtsleeves underneath. His copious breeches were fastened to his hose at the knees by handsome scarves, tied into knots. A cloth rose decorated his shoe.

His left shoe. His only shoe. Peter Stuyvesant had lost his right leg. The people of New Amsterdam sneaked glances at that wooden leg bound in silver bands. In time to come they were to hear the rat-a-tat-tat of his artificial limb when Peg Leg Peter became angry. A few even learned how he had lost his leg.

Born in Holland and the son of a minister, Stuyvesant had gone through college and then hired himself out as a soldier for the militant Dutch West India Company. His quick mind, strong character, and personal magnetism lifted him to the governorship of the island of Curaçao. During a raid against the Portuguese of nearby St. Martin Island he was wounded so badly that he was invalided back to Holland, where his right leg was amputated. He was complimented for his courage but censured for his misjudgment in launching the attack.

While convalescing, Stuyvesant was nursed by his sister, Annake, of whom he was extremely fond. Eleven years older than Peter, she was tall, rather unattractive, but as determined in her own quiet way as her stormy brother. Peter and Annake married a brother and sister. He took to wife the lovely Judith Bayard, by whom he had two sons. Annake wed Samuel Bayard. The Bayards were descended from eminent Huguenots, who had fled from France to Holland to escape persecution.

Mrs. Stuyvesant was a beautiful blonde, with a voice as sweet as her husband's was harsh. She enjoyed music and dressed herself in the height of French fashion. Besides speaking French and Dutch fluently, she acquired a good command of the English language after
her arrival here. Peter was a master of Latin but spoke English haltingly.

Soon after the Stuyvesants had landed in New Amsterdam, Annake's husband died in Holland. Deciding to join her brother, she sailed from the homeland with her three sons and their tutor. This scholar proved to be so unscholarly that the widow took over the education of her children. In the New World she met and married one of the colony's officials, Nicholas Verlett.

Peter Stuyvesant had been ordered to put New Netherland on a paying basis. Conditions were troubled: trade faltering, smuggling widespread, money lacking, morals murky, and reforms needed. To help him govern the colony, Stuyvesant appointed a five-man council, but this was a mere gesture. He ran the whole show. One of his first problems was how to impose taxes—not to levy tribute on the Indians, as the foolish Kieft had tried to do. No, Stuyvesant would have to tax the white colonists themselves, even though for two centuries Dutchmen had declared that taxation without representation was tyranny.

With company approval, Stuyvesant decided to grant the colonists the appearance of representation and then tap their tills. He ordered the people to elect eighteen of their “most notable, reasonable, honest and respectable” men. When this was done, he himself chose half of the eighteen to serve as an advisory board. The function of these Nine Men was
to assist, when called on,
in providing for the general welfare. The history of Stuyvesant's seventeen-year rule is that of a struggle between him and the people, who wanted a truly popular government.

Taxes were imposed, but it was difficult to collect them. Kieft's blunders and greed left the colonists with little respect for any representative of the company. Kieft had not departed immediately on his ill-starred voyage to Holland after his dismissal as director general. In fact, during Stuyvesant's inauguration the deposed governor stood beside his successor and even insisted on saying a few words. Kieft thanked the people for their fidelity, wished them happiness, and bade them farewell. From the audience there arose murmurs: “We're glad your reign is over,” and “Good riddance!”

Then someone suggested that Kieft should be voted the conventional thanks for his official conduct. Two men said bluntly that they had no reason to thank him and would not do so. One of them was
named Kuyter. The other was Melyn. Both had lost much in the Indian war provoked by Kieft. By this time everyone knew the gruesome details of the Pavonia Massacre. Dutch soldiers had snatched Indian children from their mothers' breasts and hacked the infants to death. Other sucklings had been bound to boards, tortured, and then murdered. Still other Indian children had been thrown into the river by the cruel Dutchmen.

During the confrontation between Kieft on the one hand and Kuyter and Melyn on the other, these gory matters were not mentioned. Nevertheless, as Stuyvesant heard his predecessor defied and humiliated, the scowl lines deepened in his stern face. But Kuyter and Melyn were not content to let it go at that. After Stuyvesant's inauguration, after he had begun his work of reconstruction and reform, these two stubborn Dutchmen urged that an investigation be held to determine the cause of the late Indian war. They suggested that colonists should testify, evidence be compiled, and a report about Kieft's conduct be sent to Holland.

Stuyvesant now appointed a commission to pass on the propriety of such an inquiry. However, the moment it assembled, he blasted Kuyter and Melyn, calling them “two malignant fellows” and “disturbers of the peace.” A company man to the core, Stuyvesant sided with Kieft from the very start. Trumped-up charges were brought against Kuyter and Melyn. They were accused of slandering and threatening the former governor. Then they were arrested on charges of rebellion and sedition and brought to trial almost immediately.

The trial, which lasted several days, stirred up wild excitement throughout the town. Taking no chances, Stuyvesant himself mounted the bench to sit as judge. No one was surprised at the verdict: guilty. Melyn was banished from New Netherland for 7 years and fined 300 guilders. Kuyter was exiled for 3 years and fined 150 guilders. Glaring at Melyn, Peg Leg Peter roared, “If I thought there were any danger of your trying an appeal, I would hang you this minute to the tallest tree on the island!”

Soon afterward, Kieft sailed for Holland with his fortune, which his enemies estimated to be 400,000 guilders. He took Kuyter and Melyn with him as prisoners. As has been noted, the ship never reached its destination, being wrecked on a rock off the coast of Wales. When it appeared that all aboard would perish, the conscience-stricken Kieft went to his prisoners and stammered, “Friends, I—I—have done you wrong! Can you—forgive me?” Kieft and 80 passengers
were drowned. Kuyter, Melyn, and 18 other persons were saved.